


bound to lose, bound to win

by vtforpedro



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Universe, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, POV Original Percival Graves, Protective Original Percival Graves, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Wedding Planning, mary lou vs graves: stare down number 84
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 88,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28231854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Percival Graves learns he is bound by blood magic to marry a member of another once-prominent but now diminished Pureblood family. If he can’t find a way out of it, he may be able to find an ally in his fiancé, Credence Barebone.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 86
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

There is no particular _just like any other day_ in the Auror department in MACUSA.  
  
Each day can be drastically different than the one before it, from being stuck inside all day with paperwork and meetings, to planning and carrying out raids, to emergencies that take them out into the field unexpectedly.  
  
Percival Graves can generally rely on his days to include paperwork and meetings, less fieldwork than before he took the Director’s seat, but the unexpected still tends to find him throughout the week. Most people on the other end of _the unexpected_ don’t like coming face to face with him, but he keeps New York City as safe as he can, for wizard and no-maj alike.  
  
The unexpected keeps his job interesting, immensely so, and though he is good at every aspect of it, his mind works best when he doesn’t have time to second-guess anything. When he needs to move quickly to make plans or he needs to move quickly to stop someone else’s plans.  
  
Graves thrives on all of it. Even the paperwork because it puts his mind at ease to know someone in the department is doing proper paperwork and not fucking anything up.  
  
He never hopes for catastrophes or nightmares, even if he deals with them well enough, but catastrophic nightmares come in all shapes and sizes, as he will soon learn.  
  
He’s sitting at his desk, flipping through a report from Fontaine’s team on how a raid they performed last night had gone. He’d spent his morning with reporters and journalists giving statements while the report was finished and found it waiting on his desk when he’d gotten back inside.  
  
It’s a long one, as the raid involved arresting many people and seizing numerous illegal artifacts and various other items, including animals. Graves is glad it’s over, another month of planning and perfect execution under their belts. Besides a colorful comment here and there throughout the report that he taps his wand against to change it into something more appropriate, he thinks it’s good work too.  
  
When someone appears in his open office doorway, Graves glances up from the report and feels immediate anger, hatred, and the desire to pull his wand and do some damage. He merely smiles shortly, not bothering to take his feet off his desk because he does so love watching the familiar sneer he gets for _impoliteness._  
  
“It’s only March,” Graves says mildly. “We don’t normally do this until November. Bypassed guest services entirely again?”  
  
Silas Graves steps further into his office, his sneer as ugly as his weathered face. He’s of the same height as Graves, his hair grey and his eyes blue, but when he was a younger man, they looked quite similar. He’s always been old to Graves, but he manages to look twenty years older than he is, wrinkled and pockmarked. The evil festering inside, Graves knows.  
  
“I don’t have the time for your insolence today, I’m afraid,” Silas says as he walks to the desk and sits down across from Graves, elegance and purpose in the way he moves.  
  
Complete control, the way he so loves to have. Graves twirls his hand until his office door slams shut and turns back to the report. He’s not going to give his father the satisfaction of deigning to ask why he’s here, even if it makes him angry. Severely angry, really, and the Graves family name will always carry weight, but he’s prepared to rain hell down upon the entire lobby for allowing his father to move through MACUSA as if he owns it.  
  
It isn’t new, unfortunately, and Graves has told his department to ignore the man if he appears where he absolutely should not be, as long as he comes straight to Graves’ office. He always does.  
  
There’s a special sort of hatred he feels for his father, for what he’s done to the Graves family, to Graves and his sister personally, and he would like to throw him into prison but it’d be too much of a hassle. There are certainly enough crimes to prove but nothing severe, and it would be a nightmare personally and professionally to put his father away. His father, such a great and imposing man, respected in his slimy circles, but it’s the name that earns him respect from the general public.  
  
If only they knew, Graves thinks wryly. It used to piss him off, used to be something he obsessed over, that no one knew the truth and always believed his lies, but that eased years and years ago when he finally accepted that other people didn’t matter.  
  
He lives a more content life for it.  
  
“It’s time,” Silas says, cold as steel, “time for you to finally bring the Graves name the honor it deserves.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows and laughs, unable to help it. “Here I sit,” he says, “Director of Magical Security, like my ancestors before me, and I still fall short of bringing the Graves name the honor it deserves. Brought it too much honor, honestly,” he adds.  
  
“Always seeking to demean the name,” Silas says. “Yet never in the public eye.”  
  
“Saving it for my memoirs,” Graves says idly as he browses through the report. “Keep wasting my time and I’ll have you escorted out.”  
  
Silas sighs, as if threats bore him, and crosses his legs as he leans back in the chair. “It’s time for you to do what you already should have done. You are nearly thirty-seven years old. No Graves has ever waited so long to complete his family. I had hoped you would have done so of your own volition but you do love to spite me at every turn.”  
  
Graves looks at his father then and smiles. “I do,” he agrees. “Your perpetual anger that I’m never going to have children keeps me young.”  
  
“So arrogant,” Silas says with a smile. “Always so arrogant and funny. Your jokes and your wit. A disappointment to your mother and I, for all of your accomplishments. But that’s alright, Percival, because I’ve planned for the disobedience of my children.”  
  
“Oh?” Graves asks. “Got a couple of orphans lined up for me to adopt? No, no, that would be too charitable. Let me guess—”  
  
“You are to marry before the end of this summer,” Silas interrupts.  
  
Graves laughs with genuine amusement. “Am I?” he asks. “I’m afraid the days of you controlling my life are long gone. Get out of my office.”  
  
“You may want to listen,” Silas says with some satisfaction Graves doesn’t understand, but it does make him uneasy. “Your life depends on it.”  
  
“Are you threatening to murder me if I don’t marry someone of your choosing, no doubt, before the end of the summer? Please do say yes.”  
  
“I would never threaten to murder you, Percival,” Silas says lightly and smiles when Graves stares at him, unable to help the anger he feels for suffering that threat his entire childhood. “No, you’ll find your death would be quite legal. Old blood magic, you see, done when you were seven years old. Thirty years ago as of next month, isn’t it? I suppose you don’t remember.”  
  
Graves stares at Silas and feels a sense of foreboding. Usually, when his father threatens him with various things, he can only feel amused and embarrassed for him these days, but there’s something in this he doesn’t like. Doesn’t trust.  
  
His father had access to his blood often when he was a child, the way he shed it himself.  
  
“Old blood magic resulting in death,” Graves says and attempts to sound bored. “Any blood magic that would seal me to a fate of death if not fulfilled at seven years old is not binding. Magic doesn’t allow for it,” he says more angrily but with more confidence because it’s true. “Old tricks don’t work on me anymore.”  
  
Silas only smiles. “This magic was designed for children,” he says. “Though I believe MACUSA did outlaw it twenty or so years ago. When you were leaving school, yes, I think that was when. But perfectly legal and entirely binding when it was sealed with blood ten years before that.”  
  
Graves knows what he’s referring to and the absurdity of it makes him want to laugh. But he doesn’t because he isn’t entirely sure that his father is trying to force him into doing something by lying. That did stop working on him when he was thirteen years old, but he doesn’t detect any lies. Detecting lies is something he does for a living and even Silas Graves can’t hide deception from him anymore.  
  
He’s not lying.  
  
MACUSA outlawed this type of blood magic, outdated and rarely used, because they occasionally go through old laws and do so. It was thought that certain Pureblood families may still be using it at the time and it was best to outlaw it for its antiquity and the potential danger it still posed. Those types of Pureblood families are the ones Graves has numerous files on, after all.  
  
Including his own. Because, while some members of their long line have lived law-abiding, good lives, the way he likes to think he does, a lot of them prioritized their Pureblood ancestry over everything else and lived life thinking they were superior. Even over the law, in some cases.  
  
If their crimes were more known outside of the Graves family, he likely never would have been able to become an Auror. A tricky thing to despise his ancestors and relatives for what they did and to know he’s gotten to where he has because they’ve been able to keep it out of the public eye.  
  
They don’t deal in dark magic and murder, but it’s crime nevertheless. If any member of his family - his father - did push that boundary these days, Graves would have no problem burning the Graves family name to the ground, even his own.  
  
His father speaks of blood magic that involved binding two Pureblood families by marriage. Often done when the two who would be married were children, to secure the bond between families and to become better allies with that promise in mind. Popular up until the sixteenth century when it started to lose its traction. By the late 1700s, it was nearly unheard of outside of families unfortunately like his own.  
  
No-majs practiced much the same thing, but they could never seal it in blood with the promise of death if it wasn’t fulfilled.  
  
Dramatic, but allying with other Pureblood families was important in the days that blood was spilled between them, often for no reason other than grudges held against each other or for perceived wrongs.  
  
The idea that his parents did this to him would be laughable if it wasn’t believable. And it would be just like his father to keep that to himself until the last possible moment, to leave Graves with no choice.  
  
Because Silas Graves knows that he will not lie down and die just to spite him.  
  
He’s the Director of Magical Security, he is a vital man with a lot of vital work to do, and he’s barely stepping into his late-thirties. He has a lot of life left to live and he plans on living it.  
  
Doesn’t mean he can’t find a way out of this. His position affords him that as well, and the brief terror of thinking he might have to take this seriously simmers down. He’s always been able to survive Silas Graves and his various games, his various ways to seek control of him, even now.  
  
Graves leans back, letting the tension that built in him bleed away. “If that’s true,” he says, “someone else must be dying to meet me.”  
  
Silas smiles. “You know it’s true,” he says gently. “And you may think with all your power, all your resources, and all your friends in high places that you will be able to undo this. But as an Auror, I would think you’d understand better that there is no undoing blood magic.”  
  
Graves simply refuses to believe that. “There are loopholes even in blood magic,” he says and smiles shortly because that is true as well. “What poor soul am I betrothed to? All this time and we could have been getting to know each other.”  
  
“If you hadn’t lived your life only to spite me, Percival, the point would be moot,” Silas says. “But I told you many times it would be a mistake not to marry and join two Pureblood lines.”  
  
“Even if I were to marry,” Graves says with a smirk, “there is no blood magic that promises children. Between Eliza and I, your name is still going to the grave when we die. So what’s the damn point?”  
  
“The point,” Silas says and sounds angry for the first time, his eyes sharp and cold, “is that the name _will_ live on. Regardless if you have children or not, the name will be remembered and respected. Still they seek to remind me that my children will not carry on our bloodline, but joining our name with another through _you_ will quiet them.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows and huffs a laugh. “Merlin,” he says. “This is about bringing me to heel in their eyes so you can have your precious respect? If by some miracle you get what you want and I’m married by the end of summer, I will be the furthest thing from _at heel.”_  
  
Silas smiles and there’s unbelievable anger in it. “And yet you’ll be married all the same,” he says. “It’s done, boy, sealed in blood. I would suggest you start preparing yourself. You have less than five months, after all.”  
  
Graves closes the report and tosses it onto his desk as he stares at his father.  
  
He won’t let this happen, no matter how hard Silas tries to make it so, because he’s always beaten his father at his games. He’s done that by merely surviving, by living and finding contentment in his life, by accomplishing all he has.  
  
He rose above the hell his father put him through. He’ll keep doing it until the old man is dead and gone.  
  
“What prestigious family did you sign me up to join?” Graves asks.  
  
“Barebone,” Silas says, and there’s a warning in his voice.  
  
Graves stopped caring about that a long time ago too. “Barebone,” he repeats and frowns consideringly. “I wasn’t even aware any Barebones existed anymore. Withered down just like the Graves family. Too much inbreeding.” He smiles when his father narrows his eyes. “Two dying names and a last-ditch effort to remain relevant. This couldn’t possibly be what you planned for thirty years ago.”  
  
“Perhaps not,” Silas says, and what it must do to him to admit such a thing. “But there are Barebones left. I’d suggest getting to know your betrothed.”  
  
“Did you set us up on a blind date?”  
  
“Less than five months,” Silas says. “And the clock is ticking. You should be thankful, Percival, I’ve done you a great favor.”  
  
“Have you?”  
  
“She was unable to conceive for fifteen years after her firstborn,” Silas says. “So you are tied to the firstborn. Shares the same unfortunate predisposition you suffer from.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “He’s a man,” he says simply.  
  
He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or not.  
  
Accepted in the wizarding world just fine, unless you belong to a Pureblood family that is very, _very_ attached to their Pureblood lineage.  
  
“He should keep you well entertained,” Silas says with a short smile. “He was thirty this last November, but if either of his sisters had been seventeen before he was, you would be betrothed to one of them. You should be thankful for that.”  
  
Graves could easily curse his father in here and no one would know he did. It would be satisfying for many reasons, but especially the ones he’s just given Graves. He knows he’ll get out of this, but the thought of either of the things his father is implying makes him feel ill.  
  
He’ll find a way out of this, yes, but he’s not going to find it easily. His father will make sure of it, the Barebone family will make sure of it, and if his _betrothed_ is anything like either of them, he’ll make sure of it as well.  
  
But Graves tends to get what he wants and has a certain tenacity in him to turn things in his favor. He does it for a living, solving riddles and stopping horrors, and this will be another one.  
  
It pisses him off, but he’ll come out relatively unscathed as he always does. Angry for the massive waste of time, yes, but he’ll get over that one day too. Pissing on the old man’s grave will certainly help him move on from it all when that day comes.  
  
“I’ll let you know when I’m available to meet him,” Graves says. “Unfortunately I am a very busy man.”  
  
“The time you waste looking for a way out is time you lose altogether if you don’t marry,” Silas says and smiles. “Do try and remember how little time you already have left.”  
  
He stands, looming over the desk, and Graves lets him. It would usually amuse him, this being his territory and knowing the power he holds in his hands, but his father’s threats are usually empty and Graves knows this one isn’t.  
  
He was always going to have this to fall back on and Graves supposes that’s why he never gave up and suffered the humiliation of his children’s disobedience and amusement of his attempts to control them still.  
  
Graves merely watches him and tells himself that all empires fall eventually and no matter what satisfaction his father gets out of this, his empire will fall when Graves and Eliza are dead. No more Graveses in the world and no more Barebones eventually too. He’d like to see most Pureblood families fall into ash, but he’ll be content enough knowing it’ll happen to them all one day.  
  
“What’s his name?” is what Graves asks.  
  
“Credence,” Silas says. “He’s been informed.”  
  
“Oh, good,” Graves says. “He’s likely to be as thrilled as I am.”  
  
“Mister Barebone is a far more loyal son,” Silas says with a smirk. “He’ll do his duty and be glad to. I’ll be in touch.”  
  
Graves watches his father walk across the office and out of it and flicks his hand to slam the door behind him. He stares at it for a long while, pressing his knuckles against his mouth and thinks about catastrophic nightmares.  
  
He’ll get out of this nightmare before it becomes catastrophic. He simply has to, no matter who he has to fight to make it happen, including his _fiancé._  
  
Graves shakes his head and opens a drawer in his desk, grabbing a memo and a pen. He scrawls a quick note on it and tells it where to go, watching it zoom to the office door and under it.  
  
It takes fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes too damn long, but eventually there’s a knock on his door and he opens it with an irritated jerk of his hand.  
  
Queenie Goldstein walks in, her hands behind her back and that oh so sweet smile of bullshit on her face. “You’re always tellin’ me you’re gonna fire me if I’m up here and now I get an invitation. Might make a girl concerned.”  
  
“The only one in this room with any concerns right now is me,” Graves says and lets the door close behind her as she walks to his desk. “I need you to do something for me but I need you to keep it yourself. Your complete self, Miss Goldstein, not yourself and your sister.”  
  
Queenie’s eyebrows are high on her forehead. “Course, honey,” she says. “You don’t look so good, Percy. What do you need?”  
  
“I need a great many things,” Graves says and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I need you to go down to Law and go through any and all law books we have regarding blood magic. Particularly blood-bound marriages.”  
  
“Alright,” Queenie says slowly. “Ain’t those against the law these days?”  
  
“This entire floor is dedicated to tracking down the people who flout the law, Miss Goldstein,” Graves says as he looks up at her. “I need you to not tell anyone but Mister Rothenburg why you’re down there. I’ll send a note to him to keep it to himself as well. I don’t care how long it takes, weeks if it has to, but I need you to find the books predating the outlaw of blood-bound marriages and if there are any clauses, loopholes, any fine print that will sever one. Ask Mister Rothenburg if he knows anything or if he knows anyone who might in MACUSA.”  
  
“Geez, honey, this sounds serious,” Queenie says with a dimpled smile. “You know I’ve got a job and an actual boss downstairs, don’t you?”  
  
“Abernathy,” Graves mutters darkly and opens his desk drawer to grab another memo. “I am your new boss until further notice. If Mister Abernathy has a problem with that, he is more than welcome to come up here and talk to me about it.” He scribbles angrily on the memo. “Abernathy, Wand Permit Office.”  
  
The memo springs into the shape of a rat and zooms across his office and under the door in a few seconds.  
  
“He’s gonna be so nice to me when I get back,” Queenie says dryly. “Is this for a case, honey? Or somethin’ personal?”  
  
Graves glares at her until she shrugs. “It’s urgent is what it is, Miss Goldstein. I want you down there working diligently every day. Like your life depends upon it.”  
  
“Does it?” Queenie asks with a laugh. “I’ll do it, honey, don’t you worry,” she adds when he scowls. “Teenie’s gonna realize I’m not workin’ the WPO pretty quickly. What do you want me to say to her, huh?”  
  
“Anything that is not the truth or that will get her asking anyone in my department questions. Stays between you, me and Mister Rothenburg. Is that clear?”  
  
“Crystal clear, bossman,” Queenie says with a wink. “Guess I’ll be headin’ down there now. Take care of yourself, honey. You’re awful pale.”  
  
Graves smiles and flutters his hand dismissively until she leaves. He writes another memo to Rothenburg downstairs and watches it go under his door. He looks at his closed office door for a while again before he stands, grabbing his suit jacket and pulling it on. He leaves the department and takes the lift down to Records.  
  
They don’t question him when he walks in but it doesn’t occur to him that no one greeted him like they usually do until he’s down the long hallway of _B_ records and has summoned Credence Barebone’s file.  
  
Probably knew he was _in a mood,_ as Sera loves to say, and he thinks he might be in a mood until this gets sorted.  
  
Credence Barebone’s file doesn’t contain a picture, so he’s never been employed by MACUSA or used any programs or taken courses that are offered. That makes him fairly normal and as Graves scours through his file, looking at his most recently recorded place of work and his most recently recorded address, he seems fairly normal there as well.  
  
He brews at a potions shop in Uptown where witches and wizards might find commonly used and needed potions, for colds and other ailments, for sleep and rejuvenation, and other various small needs. Nothing special, really, and as Graves scours Barebone’s Ilvermorny records, that surprises him.  
  
He had apparently excelled at Potions from his first year until he took the HAREs and there are notes from the MACUSA official who oversaw them about how remarkable he was with Potions. There’s a copy of a recommendation letter he’d given Barebone. Though Barebone has been out of school for some time, he’s described as kind and eager to learn with a creative mind that would benefit specialty breweries in particular.  
  
So how did he end up in a household brewery where his talents are being wasted?  
  
There could be a million reasons, Graves supposes, and he looks at Barebone’s listed immediate family members. Two sisters, like Silas had said, and his mother Mary Lou Barebone. His birth certificate doesn’t show a father and it nearly makes Graves laugh because he wonders if his father knows that. Or if Miss Barebone possibly told him a lie about their current Pureblood status because she couldn’t get herself married into any other family. His father likely offered her more than the great privilege of the Graves name and wealth is a good motivator for liars.  
  
Graves has the thought to tell Silas this but he brushes that aside as soon as he thinks of it. The man won’t care as long as it’s not publicly known because the Barebone name used to carry weight and he’s putting faith in it still doing so.  
  
And Graves isn’t about to go around spreading gossip that Barebone’s children aren’t of pure blood just to get out of marrying one.  
  
Credence is seven years younger than him, and he went into his first year at Ilvermorny while Graves started at MACUSA, so he never had the chance to hear the Barebone name then.  
  
His father had said he’s loyal to his mother and will do his duty and there hadn’t been a lie in his voice, but Graves wonders all the same how true it is. If Barebone will be as rotten as the rest of them or if his surprise impending marriage at thirty years old was a nasty shock.  
  
Fortunately for Graves and perhaps for Barebone, he is the Director of Magical Security. No one in this world tells him what to fucking do anymore, blood magic or no, and he’ll burn everything to the ground before he’s forced into a marriage.  
  
Saving his own life yet again and Graves is very, _very_ good at saving his own life.  
  
It’s how he’s gotten this far and Silas Graves will remember it soon.  
  
——  
  
Graves is thankful for many things in his life, but his job is nearly at the top of the list.  
  
He’s always busy and there is never any downtime and while he does find his thoughts drifting to his gargantuan personal problem he is mostly able to keep himself in check. And when he’s not, he takes Fontaine down to the training rooms to burn off some of the frenetic energy burning under his skin over the next few days.  
  
Fontaine asks him what’s got him bug-eyed and Graves lands a Stinging Jinx on him that sends them both to the infirmary and to a scolding by Madam Hornwall.  
  
But Fontaine doesn’t ask again. At least not yet and Friday is swiftly approaching, so Graves expects to be asked over drinks at the bar and he’s not entirely sure he wants to tell anyone beyond Queenie.  
  
The idea of Fontaine mocking him is normally not one that bothers Graves but the more he reads about blood-bound marriages, the more dire and dangerous it seems. There is a genuine possibility of death and Graves could simply marry and never see Credence Barebone again after, but he doesn’t think it’s going to be that easy.  
  
Fontaine will either laugh at him or tell him to get hitched so he doesn’t have to take over the department and Graves isn’t ready to hear either of those things at the moment.  
  
Queenie meets with him at lunch and before they go home in the evening after Graves has given her the green light that Tina isn’t in the department and she has yet to find any loopholes or ways to sever blood-bound marriages. Mister Rothenburg doesn’t know either, as ancient and well-versed in wizarding law as he is, which doesn’t bode well for Graves.  
  
“For whatever reason you’re lookin’ into this with such… tenacity,” Queenie says delicately on Thursday evening, “do you know if the magic was done at all? Have you confirmed it?”  
  
Graves sits at his desk, moodily staring down at a glass of whiskey, his emergency stash in his desk that has gotten a lot smaller in the last few days.  
  
“There hasn’t been a confirmation but it’s assumed that this occurred,” Graves grouses.  
  
“Wouldn’t you rather know for sure before you go through with it? Or whoever goes through with it,” Queenie amends hastily when he narrows his eyes at her. “If there’s no binding magic to begin with, it wouldn’t be somethin’ to worry about, honey.”  
  
Graves takes a drink of his whiskey and scrubs at his eyes. “There are three ways to find out,” he says. “Going through with it, as you say. Looking for a reaction between the two parties' blood. Or a potion that will react to blood.”  
  
“Mhmm,” Queenie hums. “It’s not such a hard potion to brew, I think, if those two parties haven’t met yet.”  
  
Graves will have to get over the fact that Queenie knows this is very personal one of these days. “It isn’t,” he agrees and rubs his temples. “It should be verified, you are right about that, but it would only be confirming what’s heavily assumed to be true. Fine, take an hour tomorrow and go to Dragon Street—”  
  
“Done,” Queenie says and opens her bag, pulling out a brown bag from the apothecary in Dragon Street. “Nothin’ so rare, so I stopped in on my lunch break earlier today. Bought some extra things so Missus Drake wouldn’t suspect the potion,” she adds and sets the bag on his desk. “I’m not so bad with brewing, honey, if someone needed help with it.”  
  
“Someone does not need help with it,” Graves sighs and eyes the bag with contempt. “Thank you for your forethought, Miss Goldstein. Anything else?”  
  
“Not tonight, Percy,” Queenie says with some sympathy. “How long do you have to solve this one?”  
  
Graves rests his elbows on the desk and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stave off a headache. He looks up at her and sighs. “The end of summer, supposedly.”  
  
“Well,” Queenie sighs, “it’s only just going on spring in a week. That’s plenty of time for you to solve the case, honey.”  
  
“One would think,” Graves says. “I was hoping to have more concrete answers by now.”  
  
“Still a lot to go through, you know, that law went back hundreds of years just in America. Might find somethin’ yet,” Queenie says with a smile. “Keep your chin up, honey. I’ll keep lookin’ until we get there.”  
  
“Thank you, Miss Goldstein,” Graves says. “Go home and get some dinner and sleep.”  
  
“You too, honey,” Queenie says. “Maybe keep the whiskey at home, huh?”  
  
Graves waves dismissively. “Good night, Miss Goldstein,” he says dryly. He watches her leave after saying good night and tips back the rest of the whiskey. He organizes his desk with a wave of his hand and tucks the apothecary bag inside his coat.  
  
After Graves has told Barrows he has the floor until Jauncey gets in, Graves locks his office down and floos home from the fireplace in his office.  
  
The apartment is a balm to his soul like most homes are, but after lying awake last night and staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, he’d had the thought that if he was incredibly unfortunate, he might have to share his home in some capacity.  
  
It made him break out into a cold sweat, imagining someone else’s _things_ in his apartment before he’d told himself he wouldn’t let it happen anyway. He still means to not let it happen - will do anything in his power to ensure it - but the idea has been haunting him anyway.  
  
Graves doesn’t want to share his life with anyone. He never really has, not in the marriage sort of way, because he gave up on long-term relationships years ago. He’s focused solely on his career for most of his adult life and enjoyed close friendships and casual sex with strangers, but nothing more. The idea of it now, only a few years away from forty, makes his skin crawl.  
  
So he won’t let it fucking happen.  
  
It’s only been a few days. He has time to find the answer, as impatient as he is, and Queenie is right that he should confirm his blood has been used in a binding ceremony. His father hadn’t been lying, Graves would know if he was, so he’s been telling himself he doesn’t need to confirm it.  
  
Not telling himself he’s scared shitless to see the proof.  
  
It takes him a while to dig out a cauldron stuffed in the closet in his office, something he’s only used a couple of times in the last ten years, and he takes it out into the living room when he finds it.  
  
Graves transfigures his coffee table into a brewing table and gets the cauldron ready for a potion. The recipe is in a book he’s been looking at every night, one he already owned in his personal library in the office, because it has a short bit of information about blood magic. Nothing informative for his situation, but that doesn’t stop him looking at the same few pages hoping new words will be written on them every night.  
  
He’s been doing the same to the books with the actual spells written in them, banned twenty years ago, but there is no information regarding undoing the magic.  
  
Potion brewing is as easy for him as everything else is, though he certainly doesn’t do it regularly. He can identify just about any potion put in front of him but brewing was mostly done in Ilvermorny.  
  
Still, as he prepares the ingredients, it comes back to him and keeps his mind off of the shitshow he’s in the middle of.  
  
It only takes an hour to get the potion right and Graves peers at it for a while, inky black and still like the lakes he knows so well Upstate. He shakes that thought and grabs the small knife he’d used to cut a few baneberries, thoroughly cleaned of any residue, and cuts a small slice into the end of his finger.  
  
Graves stares at the blood that beads up and sighs as he holds his finger over the cauldron, waiting until three drops have fallen into it before he heals the cut. He stirs the potion just once, clockwise, and watches the inky blackness shift into a deep, dark red.  
  
The color of blood. There are two shades of red, he sees, one slightly darker than the other, swirled together in the potion. Existing beside each other, never blending all the way, remaining distinctive from the other.  
  
He’d hurl the cauldron if he cared less about his white sofa. He vanishes the potion with a wave of his hand and moves to the sofa, sitting heavily down and looking up at the ceiling.  
  
Confirmed, he thinks wryly, what he knew to be true and what he was frightened to see.  
  
He is tied to Credence Barebone by their shared blood and if he doesn’t find a way out of this, he’ll have to marry him so they keep their lives. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, really, and though he’s sure his father would do anything to make sure the world knows about it, Graves would be sure to tell Barebone it’s in name only and he has no wish to see him more than he has to.  
  
There is no reason he will need to meet Barebone if Graves is lucky and finds the way to sever this, but if he’s unlucky, there’s no need for Barebone to remain in his life after. He fears sharing his home but there should never be a reason to.  
  
His father will have gotten his way but Graves will see that his life remains the same because it’s what he wants and because it’ll piss Silas off. Only a bonus after he’s pulled this particular stunt.  
  
Graves grabs the whiskey bottle and glass he’d left on his end table from last night and pours a full glass. He should be making dinner, but his appetite has been for whiskey and whiskey alone over the previous few days.  
  
He takes a drink and closes his eyes and attempts to think of nothing at all.  
  
There’s a rapid, sharp tapping on his window, and Graves nearly spills the whiskey, cursing under his breath as he looks at the window, half expecting to see Brooks, one of his departments’ owls who is impolite this way, but it’s not Brooks.  
  
A large and handsome and utterly pompous eagle owl sits on the window sill and Graves eyes him and thinks about ignoring him entirely. But if he sends a letter back unread he risks an unwanted visit at the office and with that thought in mind, Graves stands and walks to the window.  
  
He opens it, enough to let the owl give him the letter before he closes it again. The eagle owl glares reproachfully but he flies off shortly after and Graves moves back to his sofa, sitting down and tearing open the letter.  
  
The day he never has to see his father’s handwriting again will be a day of real joy.  
  
 _Percival,_ _  
_  
_A formal dinner will be served at seven on Sunday to discuss the additional requirements bound with your betrothal. Tardiness is unacceptable if you wish to be made aware of these requirements promptly. Dressing well should be easy for you._  
  
Graves stares down at the short note. He might laugh at it any other time if he hadn’t just seen the proof of his blood being used in fucking binding blood magic.  
  
The thought that _additional requirements_ had been made with the betrothal has been something Graves had thought of and promptly pushed away for later because it wouldn’t matter when he can sever the bond.  
  
But now that he knows his father did include other requirements - and it’s so like him to have done so, Graves thinks bitterly - and he hasn’t found a way out of this yet, he is keen on hearing what those are. He’d love to skip dinner, would love to anger his father, would love to have him escorted out of MACUSA if he comes by again, but his life truly is at stake here.  
  
Graves will go along with this because it’s best to be prepared, to have as much information as he possibly can. After all, sometimes things don’t go the way he wants them to, but he will still go to the ends of the earth to try and find a way out of this.  
  
Silas will think he’s rolling over and letting it happen when he goes to the manor on Sunday and Graves will let him believe that until he can let him know definitively that he’s survived another one of his games.  
  
He balls the note up and sets it on fire, sending it by levitation into his fireplace. He watches it lightly smoke as it shrivels up and tries not to think of it as some sort of symbolism because he’s not entirely sure that it would be in his favor.  
  
——  
  
Work goes by far too quickly over the next couple of days.  
  
Friday night drinks with Fontaine hadn’t been the usual relaxing and enjoyable thing it is. He’d been too absorbed by what’s happening and Fontaine knows something is going on, of course, and he had tried to squeeze it out of Graves, but Graves isn’t ready to say it yet.  
  
The thought that if he doesn’t find a way out he will have to tell people about this makes him feel ill. He should tell Sera, he knows, but he thinks of her sympathy and it makes him feel more ill.  
  
Graves dearly hopes he can tell them when it’s severed because he’ll be able to laugh about it then. Possibly.  
  
He takes most Sundays off so he might be able to do things like catch up on sleep and get groceries, but he works this Sunday merely to keep his mind busy, but it goes by as quickly as the previous two days had.  
  
His Aurors are staying out of his way, and if he’s short with them, well, that’s his Merlin given right as Director, so he doesn’t particularly care. He’s knee-deep in his own personal case and he has no time for junior Aurors making any mistakes that could have easily been avoided.  
  
By Sunday evening, Graves goes home with a large amount of reluctance and showers to wash the day off and get dressed in fresh clothes. Same suits he always wears because he rarely is away from work to dress any other way than professionally.  
  
It’s only mid-March and still cold out but Upstate will be colder and might still be covered in snow. It’s all lovely and picturesque and Graves would be glad to never fucking see it again.  
  
He hasn’t been in the manor, his childhood home of nightmares, in years, and whenever the old man finally dies, he plans on burning it to the ground. Eliza would enjoy that and they could watch it burn together and be glad that part of their lives has been ended.  
  
Because while Silas walks this earth they’re never truly free of him and as Graves pulls on his coat, he thinks tonight is a perfect example of that.  
  
Graves Disapparates out of an alleyway and to the manor a couple of hours away. It was built by his family generations ago, handed down from son to son, on the top of a hill in the middle of the woods. There’s a river not far behind it where Eliza and Graves spent a lot of their time when he was young to escape the stifling atmosphere of the manor and their parents.  
  
A wizarding village is a few miles southeast from here, and though they rarely went there, the people who live there never took all that kindly to his family. Not such a shock, Graves thinks, as he looks up at the manor, dark and foreboding. They always had staff and caretakers to take care of buying necessities and Eliza was gone by the time she could Apparate and he was too young to go anywhere else himself.  
  
Snow is still on the forest floor and Graves walks through the courtyard, past frozen fountains of ravens and sphinxes and tall rose bushes and other dormant shrubs. It might seem like it would be beautiful in the heart of summer, but Graves knows better. The manor gives off a sense of unease and it always has, so there was never any beauty here to admire.  
  
Inside is far worse and Graves sighs as he walks to the door and it opens for him. He doesn’t bother cleaning the snow off his shoes and steps inside the foyer, brightly lit but the dark walls and floors make it feel oppressive here anyway. A crystal chandelier hangs above, framed between two staircases leading to rooms he plans on never stepping inside of again.  
  
Graves strides through the home and ignores the familiar walls, the familiar curtains on the long, vertical windows, and moves into the west wing, where the kitchen and dining room lie. He moves into the kitchen first and the two staff members who are preparing dinner look at him with surprise. They’re not women he knows and he supposes it has been twenty years since he was last around household staff, who were old even then. Nanny, as he’d called her, had left when he was fifteen and the groundskeeper was in his seventies when Graves left.  
  
They were friendly faces, the only friendly faces after Eliza had gone, and Graves promptly shoved life here out of his mind when he left and never took it into account that those people are very likely dead now.  
  
It makes him huff a dry laugh as he gazes around the kitchen, not as pristine and tidy as it once was.  
  
“Director Graves, sir,” one of the women says. “Might we help you with anything? Your father and his guests are taking tea in the dining room.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows as he looks at her before he sighs. He should have expected that, he supposes, but he hasn’t been as sharp as he usually is and that pisses Graves off.  
  
Tremendously.  
  
“No, thank you,” Graves says. “No tea for me,” he adds when he sees the younger woman moving to a teapot on the stove. “Whiskey is what I prefer with dinner.”  
  
“Sir, your father said not to serve—”  
  
“I will gladly get it myself, ma’am.”  
  
“Oh… no sir, of course not. It’ll be out in a few moments.”  
  
Graves nods shortly and leaves the kitchen, walking through the breakfast nook and to the door into the formal dining room that the kitchen staff uses. He opens it and steps into the dining room, a cursory glance around it showing him that nothing has changed.  
  
The same blood-red wallpaper and startlingly white wainscotting around the room, such an inspiration for hunger. The long dining table set in the middle, dark wood with stiff and uncomfortable but artfully crafted seats around it. The rug is as garish as he remembers, red to match the walls, and the sheer white curtains drawn closed over the windows don’t do anything to soften the room.  
  
It’s as oppressive as the rest of the manor.  
  
Graves looks at the occupants at the table who are all staring at him. His father sits at the head of the table, wearing that small, ugly smile he gets when he thinks he’s won or caused some sort of damage.  
  
There are four others and Graves _should_ have expected this and he’ll be angry about it later, but it does give him one advantage.  
  
Finding out exactly how the Barebone family feels about this, including his betrothed, and if he gleans even a moment of confessed crimes, he will gladly take advantage of it and throw whoever he needs to in jail. He’s in that position now and he does hold power here, far more than he ever did before, more than his father, and it helps him smile.  
  
Graves takes off his coat and tosses it over a chair on the far end of the table just for the satisfaction of seeing his father glare at him for it. He walks to the chair at his father’s right and Miss Mary Lou Barebone stands on the other side of the table, along with Credence Barebone, who will be seated directly across from him.  
  
Credence Barebone is not what Graves expected.  
  
He’s tall and thin with dark hair and dark eyes, high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, dressed finely for this formal fucking occasion, and though he is avoiding looking at Graves, he is handsome.  
  
Very handsome, but that’s neither here nor there.  
  
Mary Lou Barebone is a short woman with a severe haircut and he can see the predatory gaze in her eyes as she looks at him. He recognizes that look, is so familiar with it from his own father and the people he sometimes arrests and smiles.  
  
He smiles because he can now. Because he knows these games and is as much of a predator as they are, if in a different way.  
  
Silas Graves stands and gestures at Graves. “My son. Please forgive his late arrival. He does have a country to protect,” he says. “Percival, Miss—”  
  
“Mary Lou Barebone,” Graves says and extends his hand to her. “I have learned so much about you over these last few days.”  
  
“Good evening,” Barebone says, her voice deceptively soft and she shakes his hand, loose and without any firmness to it. “I’ve looked forward to meeting you for a long time, Director Graves. My daughters, Chastity and Modesty. My son, Credence.”  
  
Graves looks at the girls, pale and withdrawn, with no smiles on them, and it pains him how young they truly are. Modesty is eight years old, her eyes round and fearful as she looks up at him. Chastity is stiff in her seat, shoulders squared back, but she’s nervous as well. She is fifteen, Graves thinks with an immense amount of anger and sympathy he can’t help.  
  
They are not happy children, the way he was never a happy child.  
  
“Miss Barebone and Miss Barebone,” Graves says and peers between them a little longer because he has the desire to summon Protective Services already, but he’ll need to play this game for a while more before he can.  
  
He looks at Credence and Credence meets his eyes before he swiftly looks away. His mother rests her hand on his arm and Credence looks at Graves again, straightening his spine and extending his hand.  
  
“Director Graves,” he says, his voice as soft as his mother’s, a kindness in it that Graves doesn’t trust. “It’s good to meet you.”  
  
Graves shakes his hand. “And you, Mister Barebone,” he says. Credence doesn’t lower his gaze again, not until they all sit and his mother’s hand is no longer on his arm. He does look away then and Graves gets the distinct impression he’s frightened of him.  
  
It makes him angry too that Credence is afraid of him but will do his part anyway, not digging his heels into the ground at thirty years old to help put a stop to this. Graves doesn’t think he will, doesn’t believe he could convince him to see why this entire charade is fucked, and he has little sympathy for the fear Credence feels.  
  
He’s right to fear Graves, but not for the reasons Credence likely does.  
  
“Work kept you, Percival?” Silas asks.  
  
Graves smiles. “Criminals don’t often take the dinner hour into consideration,” he says. “I spent most of my day performing a raid on an illegal apothecary in Greenwich. Arrests, interrogations and charges always take time.”  
  
“Such good work you do,” Miss Barebone says. “Protecting New York City and keeping our streets clean. You became Director of Magical Security at my son’s age. That’s remarkable.”  
  
Graves smiles more widely and is amused by how she’s looking at him like he’s a show dog she’ll be proud to show off to her friends. “Youngest in history,” he says. “I have always been singularly focused on my career and what I mean to accomplish during it.”  
  
“Did you always wish to be an Auror? Your family has such a long history of them,” Miss Barebone says, not a trace of a smile on her face.  
  
“I had a great admiration for my relatives and ancestors who were Aurors. Gondulphus Graves was the first Director in America when MACUSA was established. Very inspirational,” Graves says. “It’s in my blood. Though it does occasionally skip generations.”  
  
“Some of us in the Graves family are more business-minded than that,” Silas says easily. “We have always been successful in our career paths.”  
  
“Remarkably,” Graves says. He looks at Chastity as she sips her tea. “Miss Barebone, you must be nearly done with your fifth year at Ilvermorny. Nice to get away for a weekend?”  
  
Chastity blinks at him and sets her teacup down. “Oh… yes, sir,” she says. “I always enjoy getting to see my family when I’m otherwise away from them for so long.”  
  
“Any career aspirations so far?”  
  
“She’s excellent with charm and transfiguration work,” Mary Lou says with a smile. “There are many career paths she can choose to take. She’ll speak with her professors next year about what would be best for her.”  
  
Graves watches Chastity look down at her plate. “Of course,” he says and looks at Mary Lou. Her smile is gone as she looks back at him, as if daring him to keep questioning her children, and Graves marvels over the same breed that she and his father apparently come from. “And you, Mister Barebone? You brew potions for _Bottom’s Up_ in Uptown, I’ve heard.”  
  
Credence looks pale and a little startled to be addressed. “Yes,” he says. “I’ve always excelled in brewing potions. I enjoy my work.”  
  
“From my understanding, you more than excel in potion brewing,” Graves says. “Creative mind is how I think it was put.” He smiles when Credence stares at him, looking taken aback. “You were never interested in any of the MACUSA offshoots? I’m sure they would have been glad to have that creative mind.”  
  
“Not everyone desires to work for MACUSA, Percival,” Silas says mildly. “Some of us are not interested in being government employees.” He shares a smile with Mary Lou. “We pursue our interests elsewhere.”  
  
“Or not at all,” Graves says. His father’s eyes are cold and there’s a warning in them that Graves doesn’t give two shits about. “Pepperup potions can’t be nearly as fascinating as Wolfsbane potions are.”  
  
“They aren’t,” Credence says. “But I had no desire to work for MACUSA. I get to do what I excel at either way, much like you, Director Graves.”  
  
“I suppose you do,” Graves says as he looks at Credence. There’s some kind of anger in his eyes but it vanishes as quickly as it came and he looks down at his plate. “I’m very fond of MACUSA and the wonderful benefits offered to all employees.”  
  
Silas chuckles. “The benefits you receive are hardly the benefits most others receive, Percival. You do sit at the top of the food chain.”  
  
Graves smiles and looks at the door as the two staff walk in, levitating multiple dishes on platters. “I do indeed,” he agrees.  
  
It’s always quiet when dinner is being served, something that used to frighten Graves, some unspoken rule he didn’t understand until he was Modesty’s age. That the people who serve them dinner are lesser and don’t deserve to hear any part of the household’s conversations. It made him uneasy until he was old enough to be angry about it.  
  
Graves may consider himself above the criminals that he arrests but that’s because they made a choice. They took the wrong path in life knowing they did, whatever their circumstances are, and he has no sympathy for Dark Arts practitioners in particular.  
  
People born into families of mixed blood and more impoverished circumstances who go on to make modesty livings of their own, cooking and serving dinner to Purebloods, aren’t lesser than him. They aren’t inferior to anyone and watching his family and families like his own look down at them gets his blood boiling.  
  
They’re the people Pureblood families have hurt, sacrificed and killed in many cases, past and present, and Graves thinks again that he will be glad to see his family name disappear when he lies on his deathbed.  
  
Dinner is roast chicken with red potatoes and a variety of vegetables roasted and glazed. Hot, buttery rolls are served on the side, with soft butter, pomegranate juice and water served as drinks. Graves has a tumbler of whiskey set in front of him and he lifts it, smelling the familiar Pure Malt that he drinks in his own apartment, the one thing his father introduced him to and the one thing Graves could never shake.  
  
Silas is staring at him blankly and Graves lifts his glass toward him before taking a long drink.  
  
He needs it.  
  
When the staff has left and dinner has quietly been started by everyone but Graves, who still doesn’t have much of an appetite and enjoys the way his father looks at him when he doesn’t pick up his fork, Silas eventually gets to the point of the entire thing.  
  
“Our first dinner is to discuss your betrothal,” he says as he gestures between Graves and Credence. “It will soon be announced to the public.”  
  
Graves raises an eyebrow as he swirls his whiskey. “Will it,” he says. “How exciting for the public.”  
  
He’ll be visiting the paper tomorrow to make sure that doesn’t happen because he knows his father will want it printed somewhere and through the newspaper is the easiest way to spread the news and get people talking. A word from him will stop that very swiftly.  
  
“When your betrothal was promised,” Silas says, ignoring Graves, “other related promises were made.”  
  
Graves looks at Credence, who is staring down at his dinner, his fork held tightly in his hand. He knows these other promises already, Graves realizes, informed by his mother before this dinner and he wonders why. Maybe she doesn’t get the twisted sort of satisfaction his father does by surprising him in all manner of unpleasant ways.  
  
Credence doesn’t look particularly thrilled about any of this but Graves doesn’t know if it’s for the same reasons he isn’t. He could be upset by what he believes will upend his life that he didn’t know about for his entire thirty years, but if he’s the loyal son his father said Credence was, he’ll do it anyway.  
  
For the sake of blood purity, even if Credence has to give up some freedoms. He could have already been involved with someone for all Graves knows but he doesn’t trust Credence Barebone the way he doesn’t trust anyone in this room.  
  
Graves is aware that during the blood-binding other promises can be made, or requirements to be met with the betrothal to ensure it’s fulfilled. While Graves wants to know them for preparedness’ sake, he still finds himself teetering on the edge of rage; he's not sure he’ll be able to hold in at some point.  
  
“And what are those?” Graves asks and takes another drink of whiskey, tempted to go find the bottle himself so he can keep his glass filled.  
  
“A shared household, as all marriages should have,” Miss Barebone says when Silas gestures at her. “And the promise, of course, to treat each other well.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows and takes another sip of whiskey before he sets the glass down. “Unhappy marriages are too many these days,” he says and looks at Credence. The fork is slightly trembling in his hand and he sets it down when he glances at Graves. “Mister Barebone and I are at a disadvantage, with less than five months to get to know each other. What a shame that there was never time to tell us about our engagement in the last thirty years.”  
  
If looks could kill, Graves thinks, when he looks at Mary Lou. She knows _he_ is not a loyal son and she sees him as a threat to what was promised to her. Graves would wager she doesn’t give a shit about Credence being treated well or not, but the thought of losing money or status inspires the hate in her eyes.  
  
Much like it’s always inspired the hatred in Graves’ father.  
  
“Your mother and I had less time than that,” Silas says with amusement.  
  
“And how happy you two were,” Graves says with a smile as he looks at his father. “How well you made it work.”  
  
“Forgive my son’s rudeness,” Silas says, no longer amused. “I’m afraid he was more surprised by this than I was expecting him to be.”  
  
“And such a stressful career you lead,” Mary Lou says with some attempt at sympathy.  
  
Graves chuckles. “Ma’am, I thrive on my work and surprises are hardly new to me,” he says. “Sharing a household. Don’t say the manor. That’d be far too kind of you,” he says to his father.  
  
“It’ll be passed down to you one day, Percival,” Silas says. “Credence will be taking the Graves name and so he will live in your household.”  
  
“Of course,” Graves says. “What else?”  
  
“The wedding will be done traditionally,” Silas says and smiles. “In the way of our ancestors.”  
  
“A Pureblood wedding,” Graves says simply. “I expected nothing else. Any other promises?”  
  
Silas stares at Graves, head held high, and Graves stares back. “You are bound to each other through life. If an untimely death were to occur, you would still be bound to each other. No other marriage can occur after the bond has been fulfilled.”  
  
No other potentially mixed-blood unions, Graves thinks, and swirls his whiskey before taking another drink. If he ever dies in a blaze of glory, Credence will forever be a widow, but Graves thinks, based on the pallor of Credence’s skin, that he’d prefer it that way.  
  
They might share not wanting this for similar or different reasons but Graves hopes to make it something that doesn’t occur at all still. There’s plenty of work to still do in looking for a way out of this and once he finds it, he thinks he may sever the bond and simply not tell anyone.  
  
Let them think they’ve trapped him until the last moment. Silas Graves thrives on nasty shocks. He might just enjoy that one.  
  
“Seems fair,” is what Graves says and looks around the table.  
  
The Barebone children have their eyes on their plates and seem to have as little of an appetite as him, as they’ve all barely touched their plates. Things of this unsavory nature are likely familiar to them with the mother they have but this is not a comfortable place to be.  
  
In negotiations, is what it feels like, despite it being bound by blood already.  
  
Graves looks at Modesty and Chastity and knows what they’re feeling. He experienced it himself, uncomfortable dinners where life-changing decisions were made, often to the detriment of people involved. He despised it as a child and he doesn’t know if they despise it as well or if they’re merely uncomfortable.  
  
If they’ll be affected by it later or if they’ll follow in their mother’s footsteps. He’d like to stop that from happening and let Mary Lou Barebone reap what she’s sown by opening an investigation to determine if her children are in danger with her.  
  
It would be well within his right to and yet there’s danger in it at the moment. When he’s still bound by blood magic. He’ll need to wait until he no longer is, however that comes about, and Graves will see then if he can help two children find freedom from this type of environment.  
  
From these types of families, so they might learn there is far more beyond blood status in their world.  
  
Chastity will be an adult in less than two years and Graves doesn’t know if removing her from her mother’s grasp would be to her own detriment or not. Modesty is young enough to learn better, to be placed with a healthy and functioning family.  
  
Graves sighs and looks away from them, only children, and feels the desire to fight bleed out of him. He won’t give his father the satisfaction of going along with this but children don’t need to see it become more hostile than it already is.  
  
If they weren’t in the room, Graves would proudly speak his mind, but he can do that later. With fervor.  
  
He looks at Credence, who is already staring at him, and doesn’t know what he’s thinking. Doesn’t know what he feels because he’s carefully blank, but he is observing Graves as much as Graves is observing him.  
  
Graves wonders what he looks like when he smiles. Wonders what sort of person he was in Ilvermorny, away from his mother. He still lives with her and Graves tries to imagine life in his shoes. If he never had the ambition and fortitude to survive, to break free, and he was still under the control of his father.  
  
He doesn’t know what type of person he’d be either but he’d wager an incredibly unhealthy one. How that presents itself in Credence, he doesn’t know.  
  
“Is there anything else we should be aware of?”  
  
Credence is the one to ask the question and he manages to look Silas in the eyes as he does and Graves doesn’t know if it’s bravery or respect.  
  
“Nothing more for now,” Silas says. “Merely the promises of a successful union.”  
  
Graves tips back the rest of the whiskey and knows that to mean that was all the blood magic allowed for. It’s a relief, in a way, and there are no other blood magic ceremonies that could have been performed without his consent that he’s aware of.  
  
“Thank you for informing us,” Credence says. His voice is still kind, a bizarre enough thing to be in families such as theirs. “What do we do in terms of planning?”  
  
“Pureblood weddings, Mister Barebone,” Graves says. “The planning is largely put to the parents.”  
  
“That’s correct,” Silas says. “Miss Barebone and I will get things in order and inform you as we go. I would suggest using the time that allows for getting to know each other. It would be a shame to wait until the last moment to do so.”  
  
“Yes, it would,” Graves says. He plans on never getting to know Credence and his father knows that. “I’d raise a glass but it should be full for that. Excuse me.”  
  
Graves stands from the table, taking his glass and coat, and leaves the dining room. He crosses the breakfast nook and into the kitchen, holding up his glass until the young woman he spoke with earlier hurries to grab the bottle of Pure Malt on the counter.  
  
“Thank you,” Graves says and takes it from her rather than letting her pour him a glass. “Your names?”  
  
“Miss Willows, sir,” she says nervously.  
  
“Miss Sterling, sir,” the older woman says, less nervously.  
  
Likely has worked for his father longer, Graves thinks, as he pours himself a full glass and takes a drink.  
  
“Is Mister Graves treating you well?” Graves asks as he looks between them.  
  
“Oh yes, sir, of course,” Miss Sterling says. “He only asks for his privacy.”  
  
Graves nods and takes another drink. “He does love his privacy,” he says. “And people staying out of his way.”  
  
He has no interest in going back to the dining room and takes his drink out of the kitchen and to the long hallway in between the east and west wings. The windows lining it look out over the grounds, dark beyond the snow covering the forest floor, reflecting moonlight. He leans against the wall and looks out of it for a moment before memories creep up on him, the kind he has successfully avoided for most of his adult life.  
  
Graves hears footsteps and glances at the hallway, seeing Miss Sterling leading Chastity and Modesty down it. To use one of the guest bathrooms, he’s sure, and he looks out of the window.  
  
“Mister Graves, sir?”  
  
He looks at Chastity, who has stopped a few feet from him. Modesty looks concerned and tugs on her sister’s hand, but Chastity lifts her chin, even while it wobbles.  
  
“Credence worries about the type of man you are,” Chastity says. “We all do.”  
  
Graves peers at her and smiles faintly. “What type of man do you think I am, Miss Barebone?”  
  
“I’d like for you to tell us that, Mister Graves,” Chastity says, sounding far older than fifteen.  
  
Another gift their parents bestow upon them, taking away the innocence of childhood and aging them much more rapidly than their peers. Graves feels another flare of anger for it.  
  
“You don’t seem nice on the radio,” Modesty says, very bravely, in Graves’ opinion.  
  
He laughs, unable to help it. “I don’t talk about nice things on the radio,” he says with a smile. “My job doesn’t allow for many nice things to update the public on, unfortunately.”  
  
“I guess not,” Modesty says slowly. “Ma says you’re a serious man and we have to be respectful of you no matter what.”  
  
Chastity looks like she wants to shush her sister but she doesn’t. She looks at Graves instead. “She told Credence he’s to respect you no matter the circumstances,” she says carefully and her eyes are bright.  
  
Graves’ anger might boil over before he expects it to. He understands what she’s implying and he doesn’t trust the Barebones, but he has an idea of what their mother has told them he is. What Silas told Mary Lou he is.  
  
“Your brother only needs to give me the honor of his respect if I earn it,” Graves says. “There’s nothing he has to fear from me.”  
  
“I hope that’s true, Mister Graves,” Chastity says. “Credence is a good man.”  
  
“We’re going to miss him when he’s gone,” Modesty says and looks down at the dark carpeting beneath her shoes.  
  
Graves frowns. “You’ll still see your brother,” he says. “He’s never more than a jump away.”  
  
The girls are quiet as they look at him before Chastity turns away. “Thank you for your time, Mister Graves,” she says and continues down the hallway after Miss Sterling, Modesty’s hand tight in hers.  
  
Graves watches them go and glances in the direction of the dining room. He can’t tell them he never plans on marrying their brother but the conversation was frankly unsettling.  
  
They both looked like they entirely believe they’ll never see Credence again after the marriage they think is going to take place and that could be for a few different reasons, all more disturbing than the last.  
  
He has to put a stop to this. For his sake most of all, because he still doesn’t trust what Mary Lou Barebone has filled her children’s heads with, especially Credence’s, but it’ll save them all some pain, it seems.  
  
“Merlin’s fucking sake,” Graves mutters and tips back the whiskey in two gulps. He sets the glass on the window sill and decides he’s heard enough for tonight. What he needed to hear about this shitshow. He doesn’t need to hear anything else out of his father or Miss Barebone’s mouths.  
  
He walks through the manor and out of the front doors, pulling on his coat. He looks around the snowy courtyard and shakes his head, walking through it until he passes the protections on the house and Disapparates back to Manhattan and away from the madness.  
  
——  
  
Graves takes the lift down to the courtroom floors bright and early Monday morning. He strides down the hallways and people move swiftly out of his way as he does, but he doesn’t notice.  
  
He scored one victory as of three this morning and that was terrifying the editor of their national and local newspapers with sanctions or arrests or various other unpleasant things if he printed anything about a Graves family engagement. He’s glad he went because it was due to be printed this very morning and idly thinks about knowing his father better than Silas would like.  
  
Once he’d been sure that the editor understood him - a man he’s usually on good terms with but had no patience for today - he left and went back home to drown himself in coffee for a long day ahead.  
  
Queenie has been getting here earlier than usual and Graves has made sure she’s paid well for it, but he’s starting to think he needs more than one pair of eyes.  
  
Graves walks into the huge and ever-extending room that houses all written wizarding law. It smells dusty in here but it’s well maintained and Graves nods shortly at Mister Rothenburg behind the counter as he walks past him. He strides down to a seated area for perusing books, brightly lit with comfortable chairs at long tables, and sees Queenie seated at one of them. Numerous thick law books are in stacks around her and she looks up at him, squinting a little.  
  
“Oh, hi, honey,” she says with a smile. “I was wonderin’ when you’d come down here yourself.”  
  
“I need out of this shitshow, Miss Goldstein,” Graves says and leans against the table near her, crossing his arms. “As soon as fucking possible.”  
  
Queenie nods. “I’ll say,” she says. “How on earth did you get into this mess?”  
  
“My father does love his surprises,” Graves says through gritted teeth as he thinks about yesterday. He hasn’t stopped thinking about yesterday and is fairly sure he only got a half hour of sleep. “It was done when I was seven years old.”  
  
“What a horrible thing to do to a child,” Queenie says with a frown. “To children. You know who the other party is?”  
  
“Oh, I had a delightful dinner with him and his family last night at my father’s home,” Graves says and smiles shortly when Queenie cringes. “For the sake of everyone involved, barring our doting parents, I need this to be severed.”  
  
Queenie sighs as she looks at the various law books. “Nothin’ yet, honey,” she says. “I haven’t found a single mention of this kind of blood magic being undone. There are others, all kindsa terrible and gross, but typically done between two consenting individuals. Mister Rothenburg is sure that this was the only blood magic that could be done without consent ‘cause magic never allowed for it except in this case. Times were sure different when it was most popular.”  
  
“It’s likely still used often enough in Pureblood families, especially those in Europe or who originated from Europe,” Graves says and shakes his head. “At least I have a sure-fire way of knowing if I’m bound to anything else once we sever this one.”  
  
“Shoulda been enough ingredients for a couple of brews,” Queenie agrees as she peers up at him. “I’m a little surprised your betrothed is a man.”  
  
“I’m sure you’re as surprised as my father was,” Graves says dryly. “Didn’t quite work out in his favor but children would never have been conceived either way,” he adds with a grimace. “Merlin forbid.”  
  
Queenie giggles. “You’ve been allergic to children since you were one,” she says. “At least that’s off the table. What was he like?”  
  
Graves shrugs and glances down the long hallway. “Couldn’t get a complete picture of him beyond the fact that his family is as functionally healthy as mine,” he says and smiles wryly. “I don’t trust him but he has two sisters, both minors, that I’m concerned for.”  
  
“You gonna ask PS to open an investigation?”  
  
“Not yet,” Graves says. “When I know my life isn’t hanging in the fucking balance anymore, yes. Fairly sure their mother has told all three of them I’m his worst fucking nightmare.”  
  
“You’re a lotta people’s worst nightmare, honey,” Queenie says. “As you should be. Might not have been so hard to convince them it’d be the same for your man.”  
  
Graves grimaces and waves his hand. “Do not call him that,” he says. “Either way, we are not going to be spending any quality time together. I need more eyes on this.”  
  
Queenie raises her eyebrows. “Teenie?”  
  
“No,” Graves sighs. “She’s busy enough and it might be considered unprofessional to use one of my Aurors’ time for personal matters.” He smiles tiredly when she grins. “I know I’m doing you a favor.”  
  
“Always good to get out of the WPO for a while,” Queenie says brightly. “Are you gonna tell the Madam President?”  
  
“I’d like to not tell anyone about this for the rest of my life,” Graves says and shakes his head. “But I need to. She can get her assistants to aid you or to look in other places. Ask around for anyone who might be an expert in blood magic.”  
  
Queenie hums as she drums her nails on the book in front of her. “Bet you have a lot of those in Attermarc,” she says. “You never know,” she adds when he raises an eyebrow, “if we start running out of books…”  
  
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen first before I ask a Dark Arts practitioner about blood magic and hear _quid pro quo_ in return,” Graves says flatly. “I’ll see about getting you some company and help. As always, Miss Goldstein, the reason why stays with you.”  
  
“‘Course, bossman,” Queenie says with a smile. “Is Graves Senior gonna make sure it stays quiet?”  
  
“Thwarted his attempt to do the opposite only this morning,” Graves says with a smirk. “I’m sure I’ll be thwarting other attempts until we figure this out. Keep up the work, Miss Goldstein.”  
  
“Always,” Queenie says and smiles when he pats her shoulder. “Take care, honey, you look like you’re not sleepin’.”  
  
“I’ll sleep when I have peace of mind or I’m dead,” Graves says and winks before he strides down the long hallway.  
  
He nods at Rothenburg and leaves the courtroom floor, taking the lift all the way to the top and to a very unfortunate conversation he has to have with his closest friend and tormenter.  
  
Outside of Eliza, of course, and Graves has been putting off telling his sister because he has never been able to hide his vulnerability with her and the entirety of the last week might just catch up with him the moment he sees her.  
  
Seraphina is more manageable for now, and she gets in as early as he does, thank Merlin.  
  
After Seraphina’s Aurors open the door for Graves, he steps into her spacious and cozy office and walks to her desk. She’s drinking her morning coffee and looks up at him.  
  
“Good morning, Director Graves,” Sera says as she leans back in her chair, pushing aside numerous memos she is in the middle of reading. “I’m not going to like this.”  
  
“Thankfully you don’t have to deal with it,” Graves says and sits across from her. “Though I need to borrow a few of your aides.”  
  
“Oh?” Sera asks and raises her eyebrows. “Sacrifices?”  
  
Graves laughs, unable to help it. “To my patience, yes,” he says and smiles. “I’m dealing with a personal crisis and I’ve got Queenie Goldstein researching for me but I need this to move more quickly. I’m sure some of your junior aides can spare the time.”  
  
“For a personal crisis?” Sera asks. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”  
  
“Not my doing, thanks,” Graves says and sighs as he looks up at the ceiling. He shakes his head and looks at Sera. “My father used blood magic when I was seven years old to tie me to a union he has only just told me about as of a week ago and of which I have less than five months to stop before I unceremoniously drop dead where I stand.”  
  
Sera’s eyebrows are high on her forehead and she frowns for a while. “I should have let you curse him at your mother’s funeral,” she says and smiles faintly when he points at her in agreement. “Merlin, Percy. Your father has always been a spectacular liar.”  
  
“Confirmed it with a blood-bound potion,” Graves says tiredly. “Met my fiancé last night.”  
  
“Shit,” Sera says with a grimace. “Why haven’t you come to me sooner?”  
  
“Because I was hoping I would have found a way out of this by now and there’s nothing you can do but offer me your aides so they can research with Goldstein and outside of Law downstairs.”  
  
Sera hums and nods, frowning still. “What family?”  
  
“Barebone,” Graves says with distaste.  
  
“Barebone,” Sera repeats. “I wasn’t even aware any Barebones still lived.”  
  
“You and I are both surprised by that fact. Withered down to just about nothing like my own family,” Graves sighs. “Miss Barebone is an absolute peach and I shudder to think of what she and my father have accomplished together outside of this. My betrothed is… I don’t fucking know yet, but I don’t trust him, nor do I plan on seeing him again. He has two sisters, both minors, that I am concerned for. Going to talk to Protective once I’m sure this has been taken care of but I might get eyes on Barebone’s home in the meantime.”  
  
Sera shakes her head and peers at him for a moment before picking up her coffee. “Your father is fortunate that you can’t arrest him for this. As he’s been lucky for a long time,” she says with some bitterness. “I’m sorry I can’t do more for you myself.”  
  
Sera is Graves’ oldest friend. Same year in Ilvermorny and the same sort of ambitious, mature minds brought them together and they haven’t parted since. She’s been aware of his family, of his father, for a long time and she was there for Graves through the worst of it. Helped him find some peace and healing whenever the school year started from the few months he spent stuck at home before it.  
  
She’d been the rational one between them when he was young and more hot-headed, more obsessed with some kind of vengeance, and saved his ass from losing his job or going to prison on more than one occasion.  
  
“I’m confident we’ll find a way to sever it, Sera,” Graves says. “Soon, hopefully, but I do have some time if we don’t find a way by the end of this month. I have very little time to spare looking for myself, but if that happens, I’ll have to take time and look for the answer.”  
  
“Of course,” Sera says. “Whatever you need.” She takes a drink of coffee and shakes her head. “I’m sure your father didn’t mean for your betrothed to be a man.”  
  
“He did not.”  
  
“One step toward ruining his plans and he caused it himself,” Sera says with a smile. “I have no doubts you’ll find the answer, Percy. I’ll have four aides help Miss Goldstein and ask other departments what they know about this particular blood magic. When that magic was outlawed, the books containing the spells were banned, but we should have numerous copies still downstairs.”  
  
“We should,” Graves agrees. “But I have a few of those at home and couldn’t find anything in them. Still, no harm in looking for others I might not know. They do tend to be woefully remiss in how to unbind blood magic. Almost like the authors weren’t for that sort of thing,” he adds dryly. “This needs to stay quiet.”  
  
“Will your father keep it quiet?” Sera asks.  
  
“Spent forty-five minutes at the _Herald_ this morning ensuring it doesn’t go out with those two publications, which it was already meant to,” Graves says. “Surprised the bastard didn’t let me find out by reading it in the paper.”  
  
Sera smiles, amused. “I hope you didn’t harass Mister Michaels too badly,” she says and rolls her eyes when Graves shrugs. “There are other publications.”  
  
“I would savor it, Sera, to see the look on his face approaching those other publications,” Graves says with a smirk. “I’ve thought of it too. I’ll hit them during my lunch hour. He thinks he’s gotten one over me when I’m at the top of the fucking world.”  
  
“You always suspected he had cards up his sleeves still,” Sera says. “The spring ball is in a month.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows before he sighs and digs his fingers against his eyes. “Fuck, that’s been in Fontaine’s hands for months,” he says. “Which he knows to keep out of my hands. Nosferatu hasn’t left his lair for a ball in years.”  
  
Sera laughs and holds out her hand. “If you take away all of the outlets for letting the public know, he’ll be inspired, Percy. You can rescind an invitation, but it won’t matter if he comes as a guest and if you turn him away at the door, it may become public in a way far worse than an engagement announcement in the papers,” she says. “And you will not make a scene if he does come to the ball.”  
  
Graves purses his lips. “If he starts the scene, I’ll have no choice but to finish it,” he says and shrugs again when she gives him a long look. “You know his reputation means more to him than that. If he hasn’t managed to get word to the public in the next month, I’ll consider myself lucky, but if he hasn’t I suppose I know I have to get this done in the next five weeks.”  
  
“A lot of research can be done in five weeks,” Sera says with a smile. “You’ve always gotten what you’ve wanted, Percy. I have faith you’ll keep that up.”  
  
“Or Merlin help us all,” Graves says with a short smile. “Thank you, Sera. Get them on it as soon as fucking possible, please and thank you.” He stands and moves around her desk to kiss her cheek. “Beautiful as always.”  
  
“Flatterer,” Sera says with a smirk. “You already know my resources are yours. Let me know if you need any more help.”  
  
“Will do, Madam President,” Graves says and walks across the office. “Please emphasize that time is of the essence.”  
  
“I always do,” Sera says. “Don’t kill your father.”  
  
“I make no promises,” Graves says when he stops in front of the door and looks back at her with a wink.  
  
He leaves then and it’s barely going on seven, so his day shift won’t be in for another hour, but he’s itching to get to work because he’s already in later than he’d like to be. Criminals still keep committing crimes and Graves still is the head of all Auror offices in America, which affords him little time to do anything but work.  
  
It keeps him sane and he needs the distraction, especially now, but it is a comfort to know he’s going to have multiple people looking into this.  
  
He’ll start pursuing it himself if he needs to, but Graves is still confident that they’ll figure this out sooner rather than later.  
  
MACUSA and all the power inside it are at his disposal and if he doesn’t find the answer here, it’ll be another nasty shock, so Graves simply refuses to believe that’ll happen.  
  
With more conviction and stronger plans in mind, Graves strides into the Auror department and gets to work.  
  
——  
  
Graves fends off two more _invitations_ for dinner from his father with the genuine and valid excuse that he’s fucking busy. The commentary on his rudeness for abandoning dinner guests only serves to make him laugh, though he knows he’s likely putting himself in a bad position.  
  
Whether that’s by his father wandering into his office or in some other way, Graves doesn’t know, but he feels a general ominous tone to his days the more he ignores his _duties_ and the more days that pass at all, with no answers or even a clue to point him in the right direction.  
  
Queenie is still working diligently and so are Sera’s aides. Queenie says Tina has been haranguing her to know what’s going on but she’s kept her mouth shut. Graves doesn’t trust that’ll last for too much longer either and the thought of both Goldsteins knowing what he’s going through is agonizing enough.  
  
Three weeks pass, with no answers and no relief, more letters from his father that are becoming more threatening. Graves knows he will pay for that somehow, but he has managed to put the fear of prison into guest services and security if they let Silas Graves step onto the lift one more time. He’s to make an appointment upon approval like anyone else, but his father hasn’t come to MACUSA yet.  
  
It makes Graves uneasy. All of it makes him uneasy, and he’s starting to feel like he’s fraying at the edges each day that passes and there’s no solution to this problem.  
  
Graves has taken time off work to go to places in New York where he knows people who know blood magic, but no one has the answer. No one ever has the answer, not the rare books they sometimes give him, not the people with a great knowledge of blood magic from their studies.  
  
He’s starting to think he may need to look beyond New York, and if he corresponds with the Ministry of Magic, even urgently, it takes time. It makes four months seem a lot shorter.  
  
His sister has found out, unfortunately, likely retaliation for not letting his father publish the announcement in any papers. He’d sent a letter to her and she’d shown up on his doorstep not long after he got home one evening, and he may have gotten so angry when he told her exactly what’s been happening that he’d shed angry tears, but Eliza is always patient with him.  
  
Annoyed too, that he hadn’t told her sooner, but she’d said she understood why.  
  
Eliza has never been a person with any romantic interest. She is ambitious and career-focused, as most Graveses are, and the idea of marriage and children had repulsed her as much as it repulses Graves.  
  
But she’d married anyway. Her best friend from Ilvermorny, a man that’s always loved her and has been respectful of her lack of interest in anyone at all. But he’s from a respected Pureblood family - respected for their good deeds, well-known and successful careers, and being generally good, sane people - and he’d asked her to marry him a year after she finished Ilvermorny to keep her from a fate much like Graves’.  
  
Their father was all too happy to have his daughter marry into such a respected family, no matter how different they were from his own, because of the respect it earned him in return.  
  
And if he’d done this to Eliza, which he very well may have, her marriage severed any blood magic that might have been performed.  
  
She was never going to have children, which angered their father for a long time but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t known Eliza wasn’t interested in that because she’d been smart enough to seem like she was, all the way through her first year of marriage before she’d felt safe enough to give up the ruse and bask in surviving another of Silas’ games.  
  
Neither of them expected blood magic.  
  
Graves has always been more vocal in his disobedience and made it well known to his father early on that he’d never have children and if he ever did marry, which was very unlikely, it wouldn’t be to a woman. A disappointment, as usual, but he’d thrived in being a disappointment.  
  
It makes him sick to think that every time he spit in his father’s face about this that Silas knew he would have this to fall back on. And he’s exercised extraordinary patience Graves didn’t know he possessed in not telling him about it.  
  
Didn’t want Graves to have the time to find a way out.  
  
Should’ve waited until the week of the wedding if he wanted that, Graves thinks, because he may be having difficulties finding an answer, but he still will. He fucking has to.  
  
Eliza promised she would help too and so would that husband of hers. He works for her, helping her to manage the four boutiques she owns while she works full-time in her favorite in Uptown.  
  
An enviable couple and Graves thinks he should have followed in her footsteps and married Sera. She would have done it too, but he never really could have asked her for it.  
  
He has the support he needs during this.  
  
Even Fontaine’s, as he’s realizing.  
  
“The fucking ball is in a week,” Graves barks as he gestures emphatically with his whiskey glass, only spilling a little. “An invitation went out to him like it always does because I realized if I stopped it he would have made it well fucking known. And I don’t have any answers yet. Not one fucking idea and in a week he’s going to make sure all of high wizarding society knows this is happening.”  
  
“Keep your voice down,” Fontaine says mildly and tips back his own whiskey. “What we wouldn’t give to throw him in the cells night of, Percy, but that’d be a nightmare by itself.”  
  
“My father, the respected old fool and for what? Respected for fucking what? Owning half of various wizarding streets?” Graves asks and tips back his own whiskey. “And charging an absurd amount of rent for the shops on them? No, respected for the name, the name he’s done jack shit to offer anything to, riding the coattails of his ancestors before him. While I worked my fucking ass off to get where I am and this is my great reward from him.”  
  
Fontaine nods and pours Graves another glass. “Should’ve let you curse him at your mother’s funeral.”  
  
“You should have,” Graves says, annoyed. “And why did you and Sera not let me again?”  
  
“Ruining your career and life and all that,” Fontaine says, gesturing broadly. “Keep your fucking voice down, I said. I’ve already cast three muffling charms.”  
  
“Cast another,” Graves snaps and takes a long drink of his whiskey. “I have to take the week off. I cannot fucking take the week off but I have to. California and Washington have extensive libraries and might have something we don’t.”  
  
“Might,” Fontaine agrees. “Possibly.” He shrugs when Graves squints at him. “Do what you need to, Percy. We find answers where we least expect them every damn day. You still haven’t told me what he’s like.”  
  
Graves sees double of his glass but he manages to narrow his eyes enough until it’s back to one so he can take another drink. “I have met him one time,” he says. “And he’s… I don’t know what he is, Fontaine, I couldn’t get a read on him. My father would have me believe he’s a loyal son prepared to do his duty but he looked terrified. Of me in particular.”  
  
“He was just informed he’s marrying the Director of Magical Security and knows you purely based on reputation and whatever his mother filled his head with,” Fontaine says dryly. “Of course he was terrified. He hasn’t been lucky enough to see this side of you.”  
  
“I deserve every damn drop,” Graves grouses, a little slurred. “Still the loyal son prepared to do his duty, I’m sure. They have put it into his head I’m some sort of monster from his worst nightmares. What does he have to be afraid of? He has no carefully crafted reputation at stake, he’s a minor potions brewer, and everyone thinks his family has been dead for years. No one gives a shit about him.”  
  
Fontaine laughs and shakes his head. “Go on, I’m getting a clearer picture of why he thinks you’re his worst nightmare,” he says and smirks when Graves flips him off. “Not every bastard out there is concerned about their reputation. Ever think he’s concerned for his own well-being?”  
  
“He clearly isn’t,” Graves says. “He’s been living with his mother for thirty years.”  
  
“You know some people can’t escape it the day they turn seventeen better than most,” Fontaine says. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”  
  
Graves swirls his whiskey and stares moodily down at it until it starts making his head swim too much. He takes a drink and sets it aside, rubbing his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he sighs. “I’m finding a way out of this, even if the old man manages to make it news.”  
  
“You’ve got a lot of people helping you with that,” Fontaine says. “Eldora could sniff him out better than you even when you’ve got your head on straight.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Graves says, raising his eyebrows, “are you saying I should let you and your wife meet my fiancé?”  
  
“If things get sourer than they already are,” Fontaine says and shrugs when Graves scowls. “Having someone that unfortunately knows you well talk to him might be a good fucking idea if time keeps passing by without answers.”  
  
“It won’t happen,” Graves says. “I’m going to find the answer. I’ve got no damn choice. I’m not sharing my apartment with anyone but me, myself and I.”  
  
Fontaine chuckles and shakes his head. “If he’s scared shitless of you, he’ll probably stay out of your way.”  
  
“I’d know he was there. That’s enough already,” Graves says with a grimace. “Enough with hypotheticals. I have very little hope that anyone in this world will ever do the right thing after the last twenty years of my life, but I have to have hope in this. In my ability to save my ass, which I always do.”  
  
“That is one thing you always do,” Fontaine agrees. “Never faced down marriage before.”  
  
“Faced down my father plenty of times.”  
  
“He already won a round by doing this shit to you when you were a kid,” Fontaine says. “Stop thinking about a face down with him and stopping whatever word he wants to spread. Focus on what you need to do to fix the problem.”  
  
“Let the entire wizarding world know I am spoken for,” Graves says flatly.  
  
“Let him say whatever he wants to say. You’ve never given a single shit about gossip and there’s already plenty of it when it comes to _long-time bachelor Percival Graves.”_  
  
“Been reading _Witches Weekly?”_  
  
“Stop giving a shit about the gossip,” Fontaine grouses. “When you put an end to this, there’ll be more, and it’ll fizzle out like everything does. I’d love to see how angry your father is on that day, watching everyone stop fucking caring about _his_ name anymore. Watching it all slip through his fingers.”  
  
Graves drums his fingers on the table as he squints at Fontaine. He thinks he has a point - possibly - but the nearly full bottle of whiskey he has consumed is making his thoughts sluggish, and he doesn’t want to give Fontaine any credit before he’s sure he’s due it.  
  
He tips back the whiskey and shoves the glass aside, rubbing at his eyes for a while. “Fuck,” Graves sighs and looks at Fontaine. “This is my fucking nightmare, not his.”  
  
“Stop worrying about him too,” Fontaine says. “You’re never going to see him again, Merlin willing, so nurse your wounded pride that someone thinks you’re a nightmare and forget about him. There are plenty of other people who think you’re a fucking nightmare and you don’t mind them so much.”  
  
Graves shakes his head. “I’m a nightmare they’re fond of,” he says and smirks a little when Fontaine barks a laugh. “Don’t tell Eldora about this until it’s done.”  
  
“You know that’s not happening.”  
  
“Fuck,” Graves says and frowns down at his empty glass. “If I end up married to Credence, you have my full permission to end me and take over the department.”  
  
“Thought we were done with hypotheticals?”  
  
Graves sighs and shifts around in the booth. They’re sitting in the corner when they’d usually be sitting at the bar, and Graves knows that Fontaine has been making sure no one can hear their conversation, which he supposes he’ll have to thank him for at some point if he remembers.  
  
“We are,” he mutters. “Pour me another. Keep Tina away from her sister and we’ll hope I have better news by next Friday.”  
  
“And if not,” Fontaine says with a grim smile, “booze at the ball is free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is finished and (mostly) edited but it got pretty long so I'm gonna spread out the parts a bit. :) I love arranged marriage AUs but it took me a while to figure out how to write one for Gradence! I really hope you liked this first part, I know it's very Graves-centric, but there's plenty more of Credence on the way. <3
> 
> I'd really, really love to hear your thoughts. Comments and kudos mean so much. Thank you and I'll see you for part two soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Taking a week off work is not good for Graves’ mental health or his department. He trusts his Captains to run everything just fine, to not make mistakes, but it means he’s going to be a week behind on paperwork when he gets back and that’ll put him in a worse mood than he already is in every waking moment of the day.  
  
Fontaine has informed him he’s been his juniors’ worst nightmare lately too and Graves is going to have to tone down his anger because the last thing he needs is for his juniors to be terrified of him.  
  
They won’t do as good of work as they usually would and that’s not the type of Director he’s been or wants to be.  
  
He doesn’t give a shit about anyone else in MACUSA fearing him. If it means fewer people will try to talk to him about mundane things the better.  
  
Washington provides him with absolutely nothing of importance. They have the same information MACUSA’s headquarters does and after two days of scouring their library and records and archives, Graves goes to California.  
  
Their Auror department in the MACUSA offshoot is larger even than New York City’s and most of the Aurors there stare at him, not having met or seen him before. If he’s ever in California, it’s often in meetings with Captains and the Chief outside the department.  
  
They all technically are his. Every Auror in the United States works for him, but he trusts each Chief around the country to make good choices regarding hiring Aurors and he meets with them all at the start of every quarter to ensure operations are moving smoothly.  
  
He does spend a little time in their department, so much like his own and takes a moment out of toeing the line of rage to enjoy it. To see it working like the well-oiled machine MACUSA is and to see numerous young faces and hear from their Captains about them, about their teams and what they’re accomplishing.  
  
There’s pride in that because he’s implemented a lot of the procedures Auror departments follow. He supposes it’s the one good thing about getting out of New York for a week, even if it’s hardly a vacation, but it lets him clear his head a little. Helps him feel more right, more where he should be and usually is, and Graves is thankful for it.  
  
Until Thursday, when it all comes crashing down.  
  
“Come again?”  
  
“Blood magic can only be undone if the blood of two individuals has been kept sealed in something and protected by the magic that sealed it,” the archives department lead tells him.  
  
He’s an older gentleman, nearly seventy, with grey hair and thick glasses. He had immediately given Graves information about blood magic when he asked without referring to any books and Graves, foolishly, had felt a brief shock of relief to think it might end today.  
  
Graves leans against the high counter that’s between them and rubs his temples for a while. “Blood taken at the time they cast the spell,” he mutters and watches Mister Carson nod. “And that’s not something that’s required?”  
  
“No, sir,” Mister Carson says. “As soon as the magic has bound the two individuals, there’s no need to keep the blood unless it’s decided that it may need to be undone one day. Most people that do perform this sort of magic keep the blood sealed because you never know what sort of animosity might be built between families over time if it’s done years before it’s meant to be met and fulfilled to prevent death.”  
  
Graves stares at him for a while before he sighs.  
  
If his father and Mary Lou Barebone decided to keep his and Barebone’s blood, he has a feeling it’s long gone by now. Maybe even when his father told him about this, when he knew it was going to happen because he’d waited until there was less than five fucking months left to tell Graves. He’s positive, in fact, that it would have been disposed of after that because his father would know he’d eventually find this answer.  
  
Couldn’t let Graves have the chance to stop it after all.  
  
Maybe they were arrogant enough to not even keep the blood from the very beginning.  
  
Graves needs a drink. Or five.  
  
“There is absolutely no other way to sever the bond?”  
  
“No, sir,” Mister Carson says. “Not even another blood ritual would do it. Ancient and powerful magic.”  
  
Graves needs a toilet to vomit in. He rubs his hands over his face and squeezes his eyes shut for a while before he sighs and straightens himself out.  
  
“Alright then,” he sighs. “Thank you for your time, Mister Carson. Please keep this conversation to yourself.”  
  
“Of course, Director Graves,” Mister Carson says and he looks mildly concerned. “Good luck to you, young man.”  
  
Graves can only nod briskly in thanks before he strides out of archives and down the long hallways back to the life. He walks in a bit of a daze, not wanting to accept or believe there is absolutely no way to get out of this. He wants to believe that Mister Carson had been wrong because magic is not always perfectly linear but often has complexities that make it ebb and flow.  
  
He wants to believe someone else out there could tell him differently. And he will still keep trying. He’ll correspond with Britain and Germany if he has to; they have the largest archives in the wizarding world and more experts in old magic.  
  
But Graves doesn’t think it’ll make a damn difference. His father would have planned ahead for disobedience in his children. Eliza was thirteen when this was done and she was rebellious already, fiercely protective of Graves, and Silas likely knew that would inspire the same thing in Graves himself. Rebellion and disobedience, failing to fall into line like he would have expected when he had children.  
  
And Silas likely found out as much information about the ritual as Graves had, though he probably only had to ask his seedy acquaintances about it in New York. Graves has gone on a wild goose chase to find the answers and he thinks he has.  
  
There is no getting out of this short of dropping dead.  
  
But he will still look because even when a case seems unsolvable in his department, five years can go by before they find that one piece of information that solves it. It happens in his work often and Graves is nothing if not persistent, even when he feels like hope has been flushed down the fucking drain.  
  
Graves thanks the Chief Auror and gets a portkey for immediate use to get back to New York from the transportation office. He has two evenings to drink himself into a stupor before the ball on Saturday and Graves thinks he’ll need it just to get through them without feeling the need to go Upstate and curse his father into oblivion.  
  
He can keep drinking at the ball after he inevitably has to speak with Silas fucking Graves and he can drink as much as he wants, a guest these days rather than working security for the President.  
  
When he gets home an hour later, Graves walks into his apartment and looks around it, trying not to imagine Credence Barebone invading his space. He grimaces and walks to the liquor cabinet.  
  
It’s only five in the evening but he’s skipping work tomorrow and he doesn’t let anyone know he’s home, so he doesn’t have to be bothered with sharing the news quite yet.  
  
By the end of summer his drinking habit might be as bad as it was fifteen years ago but he thinks he’ll need it to get through married life.  
  
——  
  
Drinks with Fontaine on Friday night is a somber affair.  
  
For Graves anyway. Fontaine is sympathetic but he thinks Graves is being dramatic about it and Graves tells him to go fuck himself and tries not to cry into his whiskey.  
  
A few potions get him back into a normal state the next morning. He manages to eat dry toast and skips coffee, which will inevitably lead to a bad mood until he can have a drink, because he feels ill. Even after getting the alcohol out of his blood he feels sick and it’s going to take a long while to feel better, he suspects.  
  
Graves might be a guest for the ball in the evening but he goes to the venue while the decorations are being completed and Fontaine and his team are working through their security plans. He listens and observes the venue himself, the nooks and crannies that always worry him, but Fontaine has it covered.  
  
He walks Graves through the building beyond the ballroom and they talk about work. He catches Graves up with how the week has gone, no catastrophes, and reminds him that he’s been out of contact with Sera’s aides and Queenie, so something more than a stack of papers twelve inches high on his desk might include some good news.  
  
Graves says that’s horseshit and they both know it and Fontaine merely nods in agreement because he’s always given it to Graves straight and Graves prefers it that way.  
  
Once he’s satisfied with security for the time being, Graves goes home and takes a long, hot shower. He tries not to think about anything at all but it feels like he’s got a pit in his stomach that is only steadily widening as each day goes by and the odds of anything working in his favor - nearly wiped out by California - slips away.  
  
He gets dressed in his finest tuxedo and he doesn’t like wearing the same formal attire more than once to an event, but he hadn’t had it in him to go to _Anita’s_ and get something made.  
  
Sera’s wearing yellow, he knows, spring ball and all, and he wears a tie and a pocket square to match. They’ve shared the first dance at these balls, held twice a year, for seven years and he’s determined to keep that going for Sera at the very least.  
  
It’ll be easier to be himself when he’s surrounded by high wizarding society and observing them but the idea of dancing at all makes him feel as ill as he did this morning.  
  
Graves leaves his apartment and goes to the venue half an hour before it starts to meet with Fontaine and his team again. They’re all in black tuxedos to blend in, except Fontaine who will be joining Graves and Sera at their table. He always manages to look like he’s barely fit himself into a suit that’s one size too small and Graves is glad to laugh at him for the first time in a week.  
  
Fontaine ignores him and they run through procedures for getting Sera out if they need to, like they always do, and once they’re done, guests start arriving.  
  
Graves leaves the ballroom and walks into the kitchens to await Sera’s arrival. Chefs are busy preparing dinner and Graves sees a few junior Aurors stationed around the expansive room. He approaches his favorite and least favorite, depending on the day.  
  
“Miss Goldstein,” Graves says and leans against the wall next to her.  
  
“Director Graves,” Tina says with a smile. “You look nice, sir.”  
  
“Thank you,” Graves says with a smirk. “You as well.”  
  
“Thanks. How was the west coast?”  
  
“Warm,” Graves mutters. “Disappointing for various reasons. The departments there are a little more joyful, though.”  
  
Tina huffs and straightens out the sleeves of her black gown, which are intricate patterns of lace and which seem to be itchy, as Tina scratches at her wrist.  
  
“The departments on the west coast don’t have to deal with all the wonderful corruption in no-maj law enforcement and the various mob families the wizarding world loves to work alongside,” she mutters and scratches her other wrist. “Why was it disappointing?”  
  
“Privileged information, I’m afraid,” Graves says and shrugs when she eyes him. “One day you’ll be able to hear all the privileged information you want.”  
  
Tina looks away and is smiling, just a little. “I suppose I can be patient then,” she says. “Pretty sure this has something to do with whatever my sister has been hiding from me for over a month, though.”  
  
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Tina says, still scratching her wrists, “she’s lucky she’s the only one blessed with her gift. Sir,” she adds hastily when he raises his eyebrows. “I’ve stopped asking, anyway.”  
  
Graves sighs and holds out his hand. “Give me your arm,” he says and wiggles his fingers when she eyes him warily. She does so then and he runs his hand over the lace that’s giving her the problem and gestures for the other arm after to do the same thing. “Wear something that won’t distract you next time.”  
  
“Well, I didn’t know it was going to distract me when I bought the damn thing,” Tina says. “It didn’t when I tried it on. Took a while for the itchiness to set in. What the heck did you do?” she asks and lifts the lace to look under it. “How did you do that with your hand?”  
  
“I am a very talented individual, Miss Goldstein,” Graves says with a smirk. “My first twenty-one years of life I spent a lot of time in itchy fucking clothes outside of Ilvermorny, before I could afford _Anita’s._ A little bit of satin at the hems will save your life.”  
  
“I couldn’t even do that with my wand, it’s such fine detail,” Tina says and laughs. “Thank you, Director Graves. That’s better.”  
  
“Good. Stay sharp,” he says. He sighs, beginning to hear the growing crowd in the ballroom, even over the noise of the kitchen. He glances at his watch, one of the finest ones he owns. “Due in eight minutes.”  
  
Tina hums in agreement. “Expecting any misbehaving wizards tonight, sir?”  
  
“I always do,” Graves says. “And I’m always right in one way or another. Tonight promises to be even more entertaining than usual.”  
  
“Why’s that?”  
  
“You worry about your post,” Graves says and smiles when she frowns at him in that obstinate way of hers that he only lets her get away with. “Nothing for you to be concerned about.”  
  
“Does it have to do with whatever my sister is doing?”  
  
Graves tsks. “Stop putting your nose where it doesn’t belong. You should know that by now,” he says and watches her lips purse. “You channel that stubbornness into something more productive than a visit to my office so I can have firm words with you about it and you’ll find yourself jumping ahead of your peers.”  
  
Tina looks away to hide a smile, Graves knows. “Yes, sir,” she says. “Thank you, sir.”  
  
Graves chuckles and looks out at the kitchens, watching chefs work their magic. It smells overwhelming, his appetite not quite the same these days, but he’s used to smelling far worse than this, he supposes.  
  
Tina tells him about some things that happened over the work week with her own cases, more detail than he needed out of Fontaine, but it keeps his thoughts occupied and he praises her for the good work she’s been doing, especially over the last six months. Reminds her not to fuck it up just because he likes to keep juniors on their toes and winks before he leaves to meet Sera and her security team.  
  
Sera’s gown is striking, pale yellow with creamy off-white accents and her hair is worn down in tight waves, vividly blonde, which she hasn’t changed since they were seventeen. She’s beautiful and he smiles as he walks to her.  
  
“Madam President,” Graves says. “You are the second most stunning person I’ve seen this evening.”  
  
Sera chuckles. “Stop staring at yourself in the mirror,” she says and smiles when he kisses her cheek. “I’m eager to hear about your week when we have a moment.”  
  
“I’m sure you are,” Graves says and smiles because he doesn’t want her to know it’s all shit for him at the moment. “Speech ready?”  
  
“Mhmm,” Sera hums. “One of my best, I have to say. Go on, go sit down so I can start it sooner and maybe end the evening sooner.”  
  
“This is why we get along, Sera,” Graves says and squeezes her white-gloved hand before he leaves the kitchen.  
  
The ballroom is decorated for spring, with massive bouquets of spring flowers, whites and yellows and pinks, in various places around it. Vines are creeping up the walls in some areas dotted with large pink flowers and the tablecloths on every table are a very faint shade of blue, elegant white plates and silver utensils standing out against them.  
  
There are smaller vases of flowers on the table and hovering a few feet above each table is a series of candles for low, romantic lighting.  
  
It all looks good, always does, but Graves has a hard time appreciating it as he watches guests be led to their tables, adorned in their best for spring. Many people are already sitting down or are standing in groups speaking with others they know and Graves glances at his Aurors placed strategically around the ballroom.  
  
Everyone but Sera, Fontaine and Graves are at their table, larger than the others to include a few members of the public that Sera is friends with or keeps close for various reasons.  
  
Graves waits until he sees Fontaine and sits with him at the table, greeting the others. He takes a drink of water and decides to stop watching the guests because if his father caught him looking for him he’d get that oily smile and doesn’t want to start throwing curses until he’s had enough alcohol to excuse it.  
  
Once everyone has arrived and been led to their tables, Sera steps out to a round of applause and approaches a podium made of solid glass. She gives a fantastic speech, as good at them as Graves is, though with far more warm humor. He smiles as he watches her and listens to people laugh and applaud occasionally.  
  
The winter and spring balls are meant to herald a good beginning for the next half of the year and there are usually no announcements unless they’re achievements they’ve made. Other events throughout the year celebrate specific things but this is to merely bring people together and to help keep confidence in MACUSA strong, especially among high wizarding society, which most of these people are.  
  
Once Sera has finished her speech to a standing ovation, she’s led to the table by her personal Aurors and sits next to Graves, smiling.  
  
Music starts then, quietly so, until the massive shimmering curtains on the back wall fall away to reveal a chamber orchestra, all to gasps and more applause.  
  
Graves despises balls. He despises having to be charming for hours on end, to join high society and their pedantic conversations, their attempts to ask him about both his personal and professional lives. He despises the security nightmare they are, he despises the dancing and the set schedules for it all, including his own set schedules for his Aurors.  
  
He despises everything about functions with a lot of people because he is not a social person. He’s not expected to be the life of the party; he has a very serious job, but he can’t be anything but professional and charming, and he _despises it._  
  
But the one shining moment of each of these, one that he actually looks forward to, is the first dance with Sera because she is not like anyone else that he might have to entertain with a dance.  
  
They both get to think about their positions and how hard they worked for them while simultaneously laughing about how despicable a ball like this is.  
  
Rumors about them have swirled for years in rag newspapers because of these dances, which appear intimate to everyone else, and Sera and Graves prefer it that way.  
  
Because it means people are watching them and they’re not paying attention otherwise, which helps keep their private lives even more private.  
  
Graves stands and offers his hand to Sera and she smiles and takes it. There’s applause as they walk onto the floor and the first dance is a traditional slow waltz. One Graves learned as a child and Sera learned in her own home, though undoubtedly a much better experience than his.  
  
They spend most of the dance smiling and laughing and despairing over the cost of it all, over the ostentatiously dressed people, and over how they have hours to go before they find freedom.  
  
When the song ends dramatically, Graves conjures a yellow daffodil and tucks it behind Sera’s ear. He kisses her hand and winks before he leaves the floor as the next man in line, Mister Ibex, comes to take her hand.  
  
There’s more applause and he sees smiling faces as he looks out at the tables. Always so happy when they have a show put on for them.  
  
One table sticks out like a sore thumb, now that he’s spotted it, where people are not applauding.  
  
Graves’ stomach tightens because the first face he sees is his father’s. His father is staring at him, head held high, that oily smile on his face Graves despises more than anything at all. There’s anger in his eyes despite it and Graves suspects he knows why when he sees his father’s guests.  
  
Mary Lou and Credence Barebone.  
  
He thinks he might have expected it but it makes a flare of anger roar through his chest anyway. That he’d bring Miss Barebone here when she’s never been invited before because she was never able to make anything more of herself than whatever Silas gave her. That he’d bring Credence, especially, because no matter how much Graves would love to pretend they aren’t here his father will start spreading the news soon. If Graves isn’t seen with Credence at all tonight it will be to his detriment and that’s not the way he wants it to be seen in the public eye if it has to be seen at all.  
  
Mary Lou is blank-faced but she’s angry too. He can see that across the room and feels a particular sort of satisfaction for it. For their anger.  
  
Credence doesn’t look angry. He only meets Graves’ eyes for a brief moment before he looks away, and there’s a heaviness to his shoulders. He looks enormously unhappy and Graves is torn between satisfaction and something else, something that feels a little too like guilt for his liking.  
  
This all happens in a handful of seconds and Graves sits at the table and smiles when the guests praise him for the dance.  
  
Halfway through this one everyone who wishes to dance is allowed on the floor. There are twenty minutes of dancing and the chance to mingle with guests at someone’s table before a champagne toast and dinner is served.  
  
Graves spends it talking with Sera’s guests and exchanging a look with Fontaine now and then.  
  
The champagne does not have nearly enough alcohol in it but Fontaine stares longingly at Graves’ glass anyway and he holds it up before downing it.  
  
Dinner goes by as well as it always does, often statement pieces on their plates and delicious too, but Graves is beginning to notice that now and then people around the room look his way.  
  
He’s used to this, has been for a long time, but it’s not the furtive glance of catching a glimpse of _the Director of Magical Security_ that is causing it. It’s the furtive glance of catching a glimpse of the person at the center of gossip around the table and Graves regrets the champagne then.  
  
“Didn’t have an eye on his guests,” Fontaine mutters. “Would’ve given you a warning if he hadn’t been one of the last through the door.”  
  
“Loves his surprises,” Graves says and he’s angry.  
  
He’s furious, reminded of the shitshow he’s in the middle of, reminded of his stress for the last month and a half. Reminded of the confidence he had in finding a way out of this steadily disappearing.  
  
Reminded that he’s tied to a man that he doesn’t know, that he doesn’t want to know, but will inevitably have to speak with. Often, if he wants to prepare himself for sharing a household and not doing it with a complete stranger.  
  
When dinner ends well over an hour later, it’s time for everyone to let their hair down for an hour, to dance and mingle and visit the open bar before dessert is served. And after that is another few hours of what’s supposed to be _fun_ but Graves suspects he will be leaving early tonight and no one can fucking stop him.  
  
He walks to the bar with Mister Ibex, listening to the man drone on and on as he does, and orders a double of Pure Malt. Mister Ibex seems to share his taste in fine whiskey and they clink glasses solemnly before taking long drinks.  
  
“Ah, Mister Graves,” Mister Ibex says. “It’s been some years since we last had the pleasure of meeting!”  
  
Graves stares down at his drink and regrets not cursing his father at his mother’s funeral for the thousandth time in his life. He stands straight and turns to face his father, shaking Mister Ibex’s hand and introducing him to his esteemed guests.  
  
“It’s nearly impossible to get a word in with him,” Silas says with amusement as he gestures at Graves. “Even here.”  
  
“Director Graves does always have his hands full with the long lines of people dying to shake one,” Mister Ibex chuckles. “A wonderful young man.”  
  
“Quite,” Silas says with a smile as sharp and dangerous as broken glass.  
  
“Never can manage to turn the workday off,” Graves says with a short smile.  
  
Mister Ibex leaves after, off to do some mingling of his own, and Graves moves away from the bar so the wizard tending it doesn’t have to witness what a happy group of people they are.  
  
“A disrespectful display, don’t you think?” Silas says once they have privacy.  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”  
  
“Showing such intimacy publicly while you have a fiancé,” his father says. “After your last show of disrespect too.”  
  
Graves stares at him and looks at Miss Barebone, who is looking back as if she expects an apology. To Credence’s credit, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else and is avoiding Graves’ eye at all costs, it seems.  
  
“Alright, I don’t have time for this,” Graves says. “You’ve started announcing it, have you?”  
  
“I did mean to earlier than this but there were complications regarding a formal engagement announcement in the paper,” Silas says. “A shame that it had to be put off until tonight.”  
  
“Such a shame,” Graves agrees. “I do have numerous appearances to make tonight with very, very important people.”  
  
“My son being one of them,” Mary Lou says softly. “You wouldn’t want to embarrass him again tonight, Percival.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows at her, impressed by her audacity. “Director Graves, ma’am, we are not family yet,” he says with a smile. “Forgive me, Mister Barebone, for what must have been such sincere embarrassment. Will a dance make up for it?”  
  
Credence looks startled, his eyes wide as he looks at Graves. He’s pale, unhealthily so, and Graves realizes he has been since he met him. “Oh,” he says quietly and furrows his brow when his mother’s hand touches his arm. “Yes, that might make up for it.”  
  
Graves looks at Miss Barebone’s hand on her son’s arm and sees her knuckles are white. He tips back the whiskey and tries not to think about what Fontaine said last week, which he, unfortunately, remembers well.  
  
That maybe Credence is stuck with no way out that he can see and he’s scared for his own well-being with this entire engagement from hell.  
  
Graves sets his glass down on a stone vase holding one of the many large bouquets and offers his arm to Credence.  
  
Credence takes it and Graves leads him away from their parents and toward the floor where people are laughing and enjoying a slower dance, free to have a conversation with each other. He sees Sera with Mister Bovin, head of Misuse of Magic, and envies her.  
  
This will get tongues wagging, Graves knows, but he needs to move past that, so he puts his hand on Credence’s waist and holds his other and looks at him.  
  
He can dance, though it’s obvious he hasn’t known how to for a long time.  
  
“I share that dance with the President at least twice a year,” Graves says and Credence looks from his collar to his eyes. “And have for seven years now. There was no harm intended in it.”  
  
Credence is quiet for a moment, frowning. “You didn’t know we were going to be here tonight,” he says, not a question. “I didn’t know you were so close to her.”  
  
Graves laughs, a little bitterly. “So you’re not a man to read _Witches Weekly,”_ he says. “That’s good to know.” He shakes his head when Credence frowns further. “We kissed once when we were fourteen. Horrible experience for us both. Drove home the fact that I was very uninterested in the opposite sex. She’s one of my closest friends and certainly not a threat to you.”  
  
“I didn’t think she was a threat,” Credence says and sighs, just a little. “I’m only embarrassed because after tonight the general public… or at least these types of people,” he mutters, “will know. People at the table were looking at me like they felt sorry for me while you were dancing with her.”  
  
“I am not a cheating bastard,” Graves says dryly. “Nor am I ever going to give up these dances. Ignore these people, Mister Barebone, and life gets easier.”  
  
“I’ve never been around these people before,” Credence says. “I’ve never been around any of this before.” He looks close to tears quite suddenly. “I know you don’t want this—”  
  
“Do you?”  
  
Credence looks at Graves and there’s fear in his eyes, for only a moment. “Yes,” he says. “I do.”  
  
“That’s a load of bullshit,” Graves says and shrugs when Credence looks offended. “There’s no reason to lie to me. Not only are you bad at it but I don’t want this either. Ah, ah,” he adds when Credence tries to pull away. “We are trying not to embarrass you again.”  
  
Credence looks torn between anger and tears still. “It doesn’t matter anyway,” he says. “We have to go through with it. There’s no way to break magic like this.”  
  
Graves peers at Credence and turns him out toward the edge of the dance floor so they can get a bit more privacy. “You’re so sure of that?”  
  
“Yes,” Credence says when they come together again. “This type of blood magic can only be undone if they kept the blood sealed—”  
  
“Yes, yes,” Graves interrupts and lets go of Credence’s hand to rub his eyes. He’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry himself. “But that’s not stopping me from looking for a way. Magic has a way of surprising us and behaving like we are so sure it shouldn’t.”  
  
“Is that what you’ve been doing for the last five weeks?” Credence asks with some bitterness. “Trying to find a way to stop this?”  
  
“And working,” Graves says with some offense of his own. “I happen to have a very fucking important job, Mister Barebone. I don’t have time to play fiancé every damn weekend and endure dinners with my father and your family.”  
  
“It’s not—” Credence cuts himself off and he looks angry too, tears dashed away for now. He isn’t looking at Graves but Graves suspects that’s because he’s trying not to imagine cursing him. He knows the look so well. “Every single time you dodge an invitation to meet with my family,” he finally says, his cheeks ruddy with color, “I have to deal with the fallout of you spitting in my mother’s face.”  
  
Graves stares at Credence as they continue dancing. He’s not sure how to take that. Credence isn’t lying but Graves doesn’t know what _the fallout_ means when it comes to his mother.  
  
But he thinks of her hand on Credence’s arm, not just tonight but the first night too, and how Credence fell so quickly in line with what she wanted him to say. What she wanted him to do, all the while squeezing his arm as tightly as she could.  
  
Credence doesn’t look well, his pallor more grey than white and there are dark circles under his eyes. There’s still a droop to his shoulders, no confidence in him, and Graves knows Credence fears him, fears what he thinks he is, what he’s been told he is, but there’s a backbone in him either way.  
  
He’s under his mother’s rule but he’s speaking for himself right now. He has a hard time looking Graves in the eye and Graves’ stomach churns as he watches him.  
  
He can’t trust Credence. He can’t trust what he feels or believes or thinks after thirty years of his mother controlling those things. Credence may have a backbone but he doesn’t have the strength to get away and that puts Graves on edge because it means Credence feels obligated to stay for one reason or another.  
  
Whether that’s fear or fearful obedience, Graves doesn’t know, but he can’t let his guard down around Credence.  
  
“I apologize for that,” Graves says evenly. “I do happen to still be extremely busy. Time to myself is rare enough and I don’t enjoy playing my father’s games.”  
  
“This isn’t a game,” Credence hisses. “Our lives are on the line, Director Graves. This is real and happening and you’re making it as miserable as possible.”  
  
Graves glances around and sees a few glances aimed their way. He looks at Credence. “I have been looking for a way out of this,” he says quietly. “I know what you know about the magic,” he adds when Credence opens his mouth to argue. “But I’m still looking. For both our sakes, I suppose.”  
  
Credence doesn’t say anything for a moment. “There’s no winning,” he finally whispers. “There never is.”  
  
Graves laughs, unable to help it. “If your mother is anything at all like my father, you’re a step ahead by being alive at all,” he says. “My father would likely prefer for me to be dead than marry you and only because it would garner him such incredible sympathy.”  
  
“My mother prefers to see me alive,” Credence says. “Because I make her money while I am by belonging to _you.”_  
  
That feels like a slap across the face and Graves stares at Credence while Credence stares back, his eyes bright again. The song ends with some applause but Graves doesn’t notice.  
  
“You don’t belong to me, Credence,” he says. “Nor am I the type of person either of them have made you believe I am.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Credence says and lightly sniffs. “I feel like I’m trading one hell for another and you’ve given me little reason to think otherwise.”  
  
Graves takes his hand from Credence’s waist and steps back so they aren’t in each other’s space. He keeps a hold of Credence’s other hand and looks over his face and sees the fear, the defeat, the anger and the exhaustion.  
  
It makes him uneasy, it makes him feel guilty, but there’s still something that tells him he cannot trust Credence Barebone. That he can’t let him be anything more than a potentially cordial acquaintance. If they are forced to live together he’ll be more comfortable knowing more of who he is, yes, but he can’t let Credence in any closer than that.  
  
“Let’s get a drink,” Graves says. “I need alcohol to get through these nights whether blood magic is involved or not,” he says when Credence frowns. “Come on.”  
  
He lets go of Credence’s hand and walks with him back toward the bar, avoiding looking at as many people as he can and smiling shortly as those he can’t. He gets another glass of Pure Malt and Credence gets a cherry rum with some reluctance and Graves supposes he probably doesn’t drink often, if at all.  
  
They are very different people while potentially sharing the same circumstances in their families and it’s another reason why Graves can’t be unprepared when it comes to Credence Barebone.  
  
Once they have drinks in hand, Graves tells Credence to follow him and he leads them to one of the doors out of the ballroom. It’s quieter in the hallway but there are three Aurors in it and Graves leads Credence to the kitchens, surprised that he’s following at all.  
  
The back doors out of the kitchen lead to a large alley and the various areas for trash disposal. Three more Aurors are posted at the doors and with a short order, they walk into the kitchens.  
  
Credence looks nervous now about being alone with Graves, somehow even paler, and his hand is shaking, just a bit, when he takes a drink of the cherry rum.  
  
He doesn’t look his best up close but Graves is aware that Credence is genuinely handsome, everything about him, from how his hair looks untamable but still attractive to the cut of his jaw.  
  
Graves takes a drink of his own when he thinks about Miss Barebone knowing this too and selling off her damn son like a prized show dog, the way she looks at everyone apparently.  
  
“Neither of us wants this,” Graves says and leans back against the wall, away from the dumpsters. “And I am still going to keep looking for a way out of it. I am also still not going to play my father’s game. But what can I do to make it easier on you?”  
  
Credence looks at him with surprise and a hefty amount of suspicion but that goes both ways. “My mother is…” he trails off and looks away. “She would be more comfortable with this if you stopped pretending I don’t exist.”  
  
“Getting to know you,” Graves says and Credence nods. “Fine. We are both men in our thirties, Credence, please try to remember that. We do not need parental supervision to meet.”  
  
Credence frowns. “I don’t think my mother would like that,” he says. “But she might take it better than she does whenever she speaks to Mister Graves.”  
  
Graves does feel guilty then, spectacularly guilty, because who knows what hell Mary Lou has rained down upon Credence and possibly Modesty too when she wasn’t getting what she wanted out of this. While Graves threatened to ruin what she was promised and what she is used to if his father really is giving her money regularly.  
  
He rubs his hand over his forehead and sighs. “Alright,” he says. “I’ve been working most Sundays lately but I do take the majority of them off. I’ll do that again and we can meet on Sundays and get to know each other.”  
  
Credence leans against the wall a few feet away and nods. “Okay,” he says and bites his lip. “Do you not have more time than that?”  
  
“My lack of time is precisely why I am not in a relationship or married,” Graves says wryly. “Not to mention my lack of desire for it. I can’t take time out of every single one of my days.”  
  
“I’m not asking for every single one of your days,” Credence snaps. “But one day more a week would establish a good routine and more time that my mother knows we’re getting to know each other. And maybe if we’re seen out together one of those days, at least now and then, it… it might be a little better. A good idea for both of us.”  
  
Graves watches Credence and can understand why he’d think that. And he knows he’s right but it only serves to make him feel more guilty and that’s not something he likes feeling. Especially not to this degree.  
  
“What time do you take lunch?”  
  
Credence sniffs and glances at Graves. “Eleven,” he says. “I start at seven and work until six.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “That’s a long day for _Bottom’s Up.”_  
  
“I’m the best brewer they have,” Credence says. “I work enough for three people.”  
  
“That sounds exploitive.”  
  
“It is,” Credence snaps. “But I still get to do what I like.”  
  
“I’m not saying it as a bad thing, Mister Barebone,” Graves says mildly. “Except for the exploitation.”  
  
“You clearly think less of me for not working some high-end job with MACUSA.”  
  
“That’s…” Graves trails off and sighs. “I did, yes, the first night I met you. I don’t now, beyond curiosity. I read your Ilvermorny records and you have the mind for advanced potions brewing and a glowing recommendation for it.”  
  
Credence is quiet for a while, staring down at his drink. “My mother didn’t want me to work for MACUSA,” he says quietly. “Or other high-end potion shops. For a few different reasons.”  
  
“Not trusting the government, I presume.”  
  
Credence shrugs. “That and she didn’t want me to meet the wrong people.”  
  
Graves takes another drink and thinks this is going to make him an alcoholic.  
  
Didn’t want Credence to meet independent, smart people who would convince him he was just as independent and smart as them and inspire him to escape her clutches.  
  
“For Merlin’s fucking sake,” Graves mutters and waves his hand dismissively when Credence glances at him. “Your mother and my father were spawned from the same demon’s clutch.”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows before he bites his lip and looks away and to Graves’ surprise, he can see he’s trying not to smile.  
  
“That can’t possibly be a smile I see.”  
  
Credence purses his lips and shrugs. “Spawned from a demon’s clutch does provoke a strong image.”  
  
Graves chuckles and takes a drink of his whiskey. “Not nearly enough alcohol in our blood to find that funny,” he says and watches Credence smile, staring down at his shoes, and wishes he would look at him so he could see it better.  
  
It looks like a good smile.  
  
But there’s not enough alcohol in his blood for thinking that either.  
  
“I promise you I was not spawned from the same place,” Graves says and smiles faintly when Credence looks at him. “I’m a nightmare for a lot of people but not you. I’ll meet you for lunch once a week and every Sunday and we’ll see how this goes.”  
  
Credence nods. “And you’ll keep looking for a way to stop it?”  
  
“I will,” Graves says. “I’m not going to stop until I’ve exhausted every avenue I can look into. But, in the meantime, it’s good to be prepared for the worst.”  
  
“If the worst happens,” Credence says lightly, “pretending it’s the best the day of could be a nice message to give them.”  
  
“A giant _fuck you,”_ Graves says and gestures through the air. “They’d love that. I like where your head is.”  
  
Credence smiles again and tugs at the sleeve of his tuxedo. It’s a well-made one, not Anita’s work, but fine enough and he does look good in it.  
  
“It seems like we might get more accomplished if we work together. At least a bit,” Credence says. “I have very little to go off of trying to understand what type of man you are.”  
  
“A few people have made me aware of that,” Graves says with a wry smile. “Anything your mother has learned from my father can be assumed to be a crock of shit. Anything you assume from the radio or the newspaper is who I have to be when I’m working. I’m not going to hurt you, Credence, not in the way you think I am. I’m sorry I left you to be hurt otherwise.”  
  
Credence bites his lip as he looks at Graves and his cheeks are red again, but not from embarrassment or anger. He nods. “Thank you,” he says quietly. “I think you’ve assumed a lot about me too. I’m sure some of it is wrong.”  
  
There’s something self-loathing in that, in Credence’s voice and in his eyes, that Graves doesn’t like. He peers at Credence and thinks guilt might start to eat him alive if he doesn’t drink it off and focus instead on what they’ve planned for now.  
  
He finishes his drink and sets it on top of a stack of wooden crates. “I’m sure it is,” he says. “I’m sorry for assuming you had a better deal than I did in this.”  
  
“Thank you,” Credence says and sighs. “I think we have a lot to learn about each other.”  
  
“I think you’re right,” Graves says and smiles. “You don’t have to drink that, Credence.”  
  
Credence is grimacing as he sips the rum and he looks relieved to hear Graves say it. Graves takes it from him and gestures at the door.  
  
“I have to get back to it. I really do have a lot of people to speak with tonight,” he says. “I’m working tomorrow but it’ll be my last Sunday. What day works best during the week?”  
  
“Any of them,” Credence says and walks to the doors with Graves. “It’s the same routine every day.”  
  
“Then let’s plan for Wednesday. I’m in meetings Tuesdays and Thursdays during the lunch hour. I’ll meet you at _Bottom’s Up.”_  
  
Credence nods and squints a little in the bright lights of the kitchens. It smells sweet in here now, the hominess of baking cakes and sugar and chocolate with the tang of fruit. They’re preparing to serve dessert and another round of champagne, which means Graves needs to be at Sera’s side.  
  
Before they step back into the ballroom, Credence looks at him. “Thank you for speaking with me, Director Graves. I hope things will be easier from now on.”  
  
“I hope for the same thing,” Graves says. “You’ll be alright?”  
  
“Yes, I think so,” Credence says but doesn’t look like he entirely believes that.  
  
Graves merely nods because he doesn’t need to tell Credence to not tell his mother that they are actively looking for a way out of this. Credence has some sense of self-preservation or he wouldn’t be here right now.  
  
They walk out into the ballroom as everyone is asked to take their seats for champagne and dessert. Graves touches Credence’s elbow until he looks at him.  
  
“Take care of yourself,” he says. “Good night.”  
  
“Good night,” Credence says softly as he gazes at Graves and it’s with the least amount of effort he’s looked at Graves so far.  
  
Graves smiles because many people are watching and he smiles because he owes Credence it.  
  
He walks back to his table as Credence walks back to his, far more unpleasant company than Graves is privileged to have and it’s hard to feel any resentment for the people around him when he sits down.  
  
Sera and Fontaine glance at him and he winks before downing the cherry rum because he’ll tell them how it all went later.  
  
When champagne is served, Graves makes Fontaine take a glass and commandeers it for himself, at least until he can leave afterward and go home and get spectacularly wasted on his own booze.  
  
Guaranteed to stop any nightmares that he might have had otherwise after this nightmare of a month and a half.  
  
A nightmare, yes, but still not what Credence has been facing and Graves thinks that guilt is going to gnaw at him for a while yet.  
  
——  
  
Sunday is slow to start but Graves does eventually get into the office around ten and sighs to see a stack of paperwork on his desk.  
  
He checks in with Barrows and his Aurors and they catch him up on the more urgent cases of the weekend and the past week. He spends the rest of the day in his office working on paperwork so he can have a good chunk of it done by morning.  
  
It’s almost impossible not to think about Credence as he does. He finds himself staring at the same report for minutes, lost in thinking about their conversation, lost in thinking about the things Credence had said.  
  
Things he could have told Graves sooner if Graves had given him the chance to. Or maybe he’d have been too frightened, but Graves wouldn’t have been able to ignore the way Mary Lou treats her son. He recognizes it so well and he did see it that first night but he’d convinced himself Credence was still going to be like them.  
  
He isn’t. No matter how much Graves tells himself Credence can’t be trusted, he knows he was an abused child and knows he’s still an abused man.  
  
When he thinks about Chastity and Modesty, he feels even more rage. Chastity is in Ilvermorny now, but exams are nearly upon them and she’ll be back home after. Modesty is home all the time and though Graves suspects that Credence probably does a good enough job shielding his sister from the worst of it, she’s still in that environment.  
  
She’s still witnessing whatever Mary Lou does to Credence and whatever that is has obviously had a profound effect on him. Graves found freedom at seventeen but Credence didn’t. He’s had an additional thirteen damn years with his mother than Graves ever had with his father and it makes Graves restless.  
  
It makes him feel like he should be doing something more but he hasn’t got any fucking idea of what that would be. He can’t open an investigation into Barebone days after news will spread of the engagement to her son. He’s uncomfortable doing anything like it at all until he knows neither he nor Credence will drop dead one day from cursed blood magic.  
  
It’s not a good position to be in and Graves has no idea how Credence feels about it. He doesn’t want this because his mother has made him an object and told him it’s his only worth. He doesn’t want to do this because of what he thinks - or thought - Graves is. He likely doesn’t want to do it because it’ll leave his sisters alone with their mother.  
  
A complete nightmare and Graves is going to start losing sleep soon.  
  
But he makes it through Sunday and he makes it through Monday.  
  
Queenie and Sera’s aides haven’t found anything beyond a few names of people he could write to, experts on blood magic, here and in Europe. He tells them to keep it up and shakes his head when Queenie frowns at him.  
  
Graves writes numerous letters, all saying the same thing, referring to a case and emphasizing the urgent matter it is, but when he gets them sent off with owls, he doesn’t have much hope he’ll get any other answer than the one he did in California.  
  
From Credence, even, and it does make him laugh that Credence knew the answer so quickly while Graves hadn’t had a fucking clue and went across the entire country to find it.  
  
Telling Fontaine and Sera had gone as well as could be expected. Fontaine had cursed for a while and Sera had frowned sympathetically and told him that when it was all said and done, no matter the outcome, she’ll support him with any legal retaliation he might impose on his father and Barebone.  
  
Graves wants to lock them both away, would dearly love to, but it’s such a precarious situation, even after it’s all said and done.  
  
Arresting his father and his husband’s mother right after a wedding isn’t something he can do. It would follow him for months, endless hounding by the press, and it would follow him through the rest of his career beyond the press.  
  
And he doesn’t know what Credence wants either. He should be given a choice and that might take time. It might take a lot of time for all Graves knows, once he’s away from his mother.  
  
Merlin, and he’s thinking about Credence being in his home now. Getting him away from his mother and letting him get a clear head to figure out what to do about her, about his sisters.  
  
Graves is going to be an alcoholic before spring even ends.  
  
On Tuesday evening, he goes to Eliza’s apartment and sits down with her and her husband and tells them everything. Lays it all out, messy emotions and all, because Eliza is the only person he can be so vulnerable with and her husband is a part of that these days.  
  
He’s a tall man with dark brown hair, kind eyes and a wide grin. He has a perpetually relaxed demeanor, a product of a healthy home environment with the patience of a saint after growing up in a household with a couple handfuls of younger siblings.  
  
“I didn’t think I could hate him anymore, honestly,” Kylan says with a grimace, sitting on the sofa next to Eliza, his arm around her shoulders. “How you two managed to escape with sane minds is beyond me.”  
  
“Oh, not completely sane minds,” Eliza says with a smile as she looks at Kylan. She looks at Graves and sighs. “You’re doing what you need to, kiddo. Any move you make before the wedding or before you break the magic will be printed on the front page of every newspaper. You can’t risk that for anyone involved. It could put Credence and his sisters in a dangerous position.”  
  
Graves shakes his head and leans back in the armchair he usually sits in, resting his hands behind his head. “It kept me up half the night, thinking about what she may be doing to a little girl.”  
  
“Credence is there, like you said,” Eliza says. “He likely wouldn’t be working the hours he does if he was afraid his mother would hurt her too badly. It’s less than four months away and I know that seems like an age, but their mother has something to occupy her time right now. Don’t disturb that.”  
  
Graves frowns, but he knows she’s right. He rubs his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “I am very used to disturbing the peace of evil people,” he sighs and looks at them. “I don’t trust Credence either. I don’t trust what sort of person is going to be living in my fucking apartment.”  
  
“From what you’ve just told us, I think he’s got his head on straighter than you’re thinking,” Kylan says with a shrug. “Scared shitless, maybe, but not many people who are relatively well-adjusted would say the things he did to you.”  
  
“Not many people would tell you when you’re being a prick,” Eliza clarifies with a faint smirk. “I like him already.”  
  
“Don’t fucking start,” Graves says. “I agree with Mister Barebone that this isn’t amusing.”  
  
“Then work together,” Eliza says. “Figure it out. It’s not his fault any of this is happening.”  
  
“I know that,” Graves says tersely. “I’ve apologized to him, I told you. More than once. I don’t trust him but if he wants this to go away as soon as fucking possible too, then I will work with him.”  
  
Kylan sighs. “Tell him not to tell his sisters.”  
  
“I’m sure he knows not to,” Eliza says with a sympathetic smile. “But a reminder might not hurt all the same.”  
  
Graves is entirely sure Credence knows better than that but he nods anyway. “It’s shit,” he says. “It’s all shit. I’m going home and drinking myself to sleep.”  
  
“Looks like you’ve been doing that for a while now,” Eliza says and sighs when Graves shrugs carelessly. “I remember very clearly when you told me fifteen years ago how good it was to get actual rest instead of blacking out and waking up with a hangover every morning.”  
  
“It is not anything like it was,” Graves grouses and stands. “It isn’t,” he says firmly when Eliza raises her eyebrows. “I’m hoping this is a rough patch that’s done with soon.”  
  
“We are too, Percy,” Kylan says. “Best of luck tomorrow.”  
  
“I’ll need it,” Graves says with a short smile. He shakes his hand and kisses Eliza’s cheek when she stands. “I’ll write to you soon, old lady.”  
  
“Take care of yourself, Percy,” Eliza says and rubs his back. “I’ll let you know if he sends me another letter.”  
  
Graves nods. “Thank you,” he says. “Can’t wait to find out when I’m getting married, so forward me the invitation when you get it.” He smiles when they both chuckle and winks at his sister.  
  
He floos home and he does pour himself a tall glass of whiskey, but only the one, as much as he wants three or four of them. Nightmares find him, as they always do when he doesn’t drink enough during hard times, and he tries not to feel bitter about it in the morning.  
  
He merely gets ready for work and heads in early to get the last of the paperwork done from last week. He manages to finish it around ten-thirty and he has this week to catch up on, but he’ll do it when he gets back from lunch with Credence.  
  
After checking on the state of the floor and telling Fontaine he’s got it for the next couple of hours, Graves leaves MACUSA and Apparates to _Bottom’s Up,_ on the corner of a wizarding street in Uptown. He rarely visits this one, preferring higher-end shopping centers. He’d like to visit Dragon Street as infrequently as he does here but he’s not that lucky.  
  
Graves walks into the shop, bright but a little too sterile, with white walls and shelves with a vast assortment of potions for many needs.  
  
A few people look at him with varying levels of shock and wariness, including the witch behind the counter and he approaches her. “Fetch Mister Barebone, please.”  
  
She nods mutely and hurries into the back.  
  
When she reappears, Credence is not far behind her. He looks pale and worried, about the same he’s looked every time Graves has seen him, and is straightening out his shirt, likely from having pulled off a brewer's apron.  
  
“You’re a few minutes early,” Credence says when he walks out from behind the counter. “Not that… not that it’s a bad thing,” he mutters hastily, his cheeks pink. “I only mean—”  
  
“Credence,” Graves says with a smile. “Where would you like to go to lunch with me?”  
  
Credence’s ears flush, possibly the most charming thing Graves has seen. “Oh, umm…” he trails off and looks like he’s having a hard time. “I don’t know. I like _Cove’s Cafe.”_  
  
“Dragon Street,” Graves says darkly and gestures at the door. “Do you like anywhere that’s not on Dragon Street?”  
  
“I’ll be back soon,” Credence says breathlessly to his coworker, who looks even more shocked. They step outside and Credence looks at Graves with an accusing frown. “You wanted people to know we’re going to lunch together.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “Yes,” he says. “You don’t know how gossip in the wizarding world works, do you?” He tsks when Credence frowns more obstinately. “Soon enough and your name is going to be next to mine in all of the papers. High society knows we are engaged already. If we’re not seen together in public now and then, like you said, this will upset Satan and his mistress and we’ll both have to deal with that. This should keep them mildly appeased for now.”  
  
Credence doesn’t immediately say anything, biting his lip and squinting in the bright light of a spring morning. He glances at Graves. “I’m not sure how to feel about my mother being referred to as Satan’s mistress.”  
  
He sounds like he’s trying to hide amusement, so he clearly isn’t too bothered.  
  
Graves smiles. “What would you rather I call her?”  
  
“Definitely not Ma,” Credence says with a somewhat pained smile. “Yours is probably more apt.” He coughs a little and glances around like he expects his mother to be lurking nearby in the bushes and listening. “Why don’t you like Dragon Street?”  
  
“For many reasons,” Graves says. “But if that’s what you’d prefer, I don’t mind.”  
  
“I only have an hour.”  
  
“I will take full responsibility if it’s more than an hour,” Graves says with a smirk. He offers his arm. “Ready?”  
  
Credence nods and takes Graves’ arm, his cheeks still faintly pink.  
  
Graves takes them to the inn that sits in front of Dragon Street and people stare at him, as they always do when he’s out in the general public. Credence looks uncomfortable with it when he notices and Graves understands why, but he’s going to have to get used to it while they get to know each other. Or get on the same page anyway.  
  
They walk through the brick archway and onto Dragon Street. _Cove’s Cafe_ isn’t quite halfway down and Graves has been here numerous times, especially when he was younger, but he takes his Aurors here now and then when one of them has done something worthy of lunch with the boss. He liked it here at their age and isn’t surprised when they pick it but he is generally too tired of Dragon Street to enjoy it anymore.  
  
They walk inside and get seated at a table near the back, away from the windows and other tables. Graves orders coffee and Credence does the same, asking for cream and sugar with his.  
  
Credence is wearing such a formal getup for spending his long days in the back brewing potions and Graves is sure it’s wildly uncomfortable on top of being far too warm. Still, he suspects if he wore anything more casual his mother would have something to say about it.  
  
His hair is in a worse state than Saturday, likely from sweating and pushing it off his forehead, but Graves finds it only makes Credence more attractive.  
  
“How, umm… how has it been going?” Credence asks nervously, fidgeting with his sleeves.  
  
“Wrote a handful of letters on Monday to supposed experts in the way of blood magic,” Graves says. “Might take a few of them a while to get back to me, but we’ll see if they have anything different to say. Not much beyond that.”  
  
Credence nods. “Okay,” he says and is avoiding looking at Graves. “I’d offer to help but I don’t think I would know how to.”  
  
“Fortunately for both of us I have an endless amount of resources and connections at my disposal. My name carries a fair deal of weight as well,” Graves says. “Leave that to me for now. My father expects this from me but I have a feeling your mother doesn’t expect it from you.”  
  
Credence looks down at the table, his eyebrows coming together in a frown. “You’d be right,” he says. “She wasn’t happy when I told her we were going to lunch today. But your father said it was a good thing so she… she didn’t give me much of a hard time today.”  
  
Graves watches Credence and sighs. He thanks their waitress when she brings coffee and orders a chicken sandwich with fruit on the side for himself. Credence orders a turkey melt with fries and when she walks away, he puts a good amount of cream and sugar in his coffee.  
  
He looks upset and there are too many reasons why that might be, so Graves decides not to ask.  
  
“Your sister is close to finishing the school year,” is what he says. “EAGLE year.”  
  
Credence nods. “She’s smart,” he says. “Good with Charms and Transfiguration. I know she’ll do well. She helps my mother teach Modesty when she’s home for the summer.”  
  
“How is Modesty?”  
  
Credence looks at Graves warily. “She’s fine,” he says. “Ma has her do a lot of chores. The house is too big for the four of us. But she’s happy most of the time.”  
  
Graves doesn’t entirely believe that, but there is some truth to it in Credence’s voice. “Good,” he says and pulls his coffee mug closer. “You live in a brownstone, don’t you?”  
  
“Yes,” Credence says. “Well, it’s two converted into a much larger space.” He looks uncomfortable. “It’s a lot to upkeep.”  
  
“Surely your mother can afford a maid,” Graves says dryly.  
  
“She doesn’t like strangers in her home,” Credence says. “She worries they’ll steal from her or talk about her family outside of her home.”  
  
“And house elves are out the question, I assume?”  
  
“I never knew why until recently,” Credence says. “Your father mentioned his dislike of them and my mother said that’s why she never took one in.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows before he laughs. “Ah,” he says. “That’d be my sister’s doing. She had freed three of them by the time I was born because of their mistreatment and another two after until our parents gave up altogether and hired human help. Can’t say anyone but she was happy about the situation but she was very young.”  
  
Credence looks surprised and he smiles faintly. “I would have thought your father would trust human help even less.”  
  
“Being paid well and frightened enough keeps people loyal,” Graves says and shakes his head. “I’m sure he threatened to ruin them in some way or another if they spoke about the Graves family outside of the home. And it’s easier to let maids and caretakers mind children than house elves. Merlin forbid my mother lifted a finger to raise us herself.”  
  
“He doesn’t talk about her,” Credence mutters. “I’ve had a handful of dinners at his home,” he clarifies when Graves raises an eyebrow. “A couple before the one you came to and a few after. They prefer to… to plan things alone but I think my mother doesn’t want me to be able to tell Modesty a lot about this.”  
  
Graves sighs and takes a drink of his coffee. “Of course she doesn’t,” he says. “How is she going to handle your sisters when you aren’t there?”  
  
Credence bites his lip and shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says quietly. “I don’t know if she’s done this to them with another family. I don’t know that she hasn’t at least made plans to marry Chastity off the moment she leaves Ilvermorny. She won’t tell any of us until the last minute. She… she also…” he trails off and shakes his head, his eyes bright. “She told me not to come back. That I have to worry about making you happy and not my sisters. She said I’ll be a Graves and not a Barebone anymore. I think she’s told them I won’t be visiting them too.”  
  
Graves watches Credence. The way he blinks quickly, his cheeks and nose red, fighting off tears. He’s surprised Credence is trusting him with this though it makes him feel queasy. “If you become a Graves, then I’m afraid your mother has no damn choice because I won’t let that happen,” he says. “If we can’t get out of this, Credence, I’m not going to stop you from seeing your sisters.”  
  
He’s quiet for a while, long enough so that Graves thinks Credence doesn’t believe him. It annoys him and he knows he shouldn’t be annoyed by it, but he is. He’s been painted as someone much like his father and it seems that it might take more than Graves’ word for Credence to believe it.  
  
But he supposes if Credence told him he was trustworthy, Graves wouldn’t believe that himself.  
  
Still, it irks him, the things Credence clearly believes Graves will enforce. Like he’s lesser than him in a marriage when partners are supposed to be equal to each other. Graves didn’t see that in his parents and it’s another reason he dislikes the idea of marriage altogether.  
  
It’s only ever been unpleasant in his eyes.  
  
“Thank you,” Credence says and takes a drink of his coffee. He stares down at the cup. “Are you going to expect anything from me if we do marry?”  
  
“Sure,” Graves says and sighs when Credence looks at him warily. “To clean up after yourself and not burn the place down as I’m very fond of it. I have three spare rooms for you to pick from, along with a guest bathroom, all on the opposite side of the apartment I’m on. I’m not going into this looking at it as a real marriage. You will be a roommate as far as I’m concerned.”  
  
Credence doesn’t look reassured. If anything, he seems more upset, and Graves supposes it’s the fact that this is likely to happen and his life will change. Hopefully not so dramatically, but a large change either way.  
  
Graves feels entirely the same way and yet he’s still annoyed by it. It’s his father’s doing but there will still be someone he doesn’t trust nor enjoy living in his home. It’s a change for both of them but Graves will have to Apparate to work and close his fireplace off to his office which means a lot of time wasted every day. But the idea of Credence coming into MACUSA via his office isn’t one he’s going to entertain.  
  
He only has one living room and he can’t expect Credence to live in his bedroom. It’s still an apartment and the only large bedroom is his own. Credence is used to being in a household with other people and Graves won’t deprive him of conversation but the idea of tiptoeing around each other still pisses him off.  
  
They’re going to have to come to an understanding and Graves reminds himself that Credence didn’t ask for this.  
  
But neither did he.  
  
“Okay,” Credence says and his voice shakes a little. “I’m not a terrible person to live with.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “That’s good,” he says and if it’s sarcastic, well, he can’t really help it.  
  
“I can see you thinking I’m going to ruin your bachelorhood,” Credence says and there’s anger in his voice.  
  
Graves smiles shortly. “You are ruining my bachelorhood,” he says. “But you’re not the one I blame for that.”  
  
Credence raises an eyebrow and picks up his coffee mug and Graves is used to that particular look, the one that he sees far too often from his sister and Eldora. The one that says _whatever you say, Percy,_ and Graves rubs his hand over his forehead because he feels the patience he had built up for this slipping quickly away.  
  
“We need to come to an understanding, Mister Barebone, and be on the same page with this.”  
  
“My name is Credence.”  
  
“I am aware of that,” Graves says through gritted teeth. “The point of this is to work together.”  
  
“Then stop blaming me for it to begin with.”  
  
“I just told you I fucking don’t,” Graves says. “I don’t blame you for what they’ve orchestrated.”  
  
“But you still look at me like you think I’m one of them,” Credence snaps and it’s louder than Graves would prefer. “I thought we already came to a better understanding than that.”  
  
Graves glances around and thankfully no one is too close by but he’s still not entirely sure no one has heard at all and when he hears Credence laugh bitterly, he feels a spike of anger and looks at him.  
  
“You’re as worried about your reputation as they are,” he says and his eyes are wet.  
  
“My reputation means far more than theirs,” Graves says with a laugh. “You do realize that yours will too, don’t you?”  
  
“I don’t care about my _reputation,”_ Credence retorts. “I only have to cater to yours.”  
  
“I’ve got an entire country to run and protect, Credence,” Graves says with forced patience. “People trust me to do that because I’ve spent twenty years building that trust.”  
  
“Merlin forbid someone like me comes along and threatens it. You think you’ve got it so damn bad,” Credence says and angrily swipes at his cheek when a tear falls. “You live a nice, posh lifestyle and what did you sacrifice to make that happen? Free time? Some sleep? Because I wasn’t given a choice when my mother sacrificed my life to make it happen for her. I’ve never been given a choice of how to live my life and you’re worried about your fucking apartment.”  
  
Graves stares at Credence, his heart pounding, anger coursing through his blood. “You’re thirty years old, Credence. Why did you never leave and make your own choices?”  
  
“Because if it’s not me, it’s my sisters,” Credence hisses. “And I know you know that. Do you know what it feels like to be told you can never see your sisters again because you’ll belong to someone else? Do you know what it’s like to know what will happen to them?”  
  
“I told you I would not let that fucking happen. I am more than aware of what your sisters face.”  
  
“But I’ve been living that reality for almost two months,” Credence says. “Because you care so much about your reputation and lifestyle that you left me behind with them when you could have taken a single minute to ask me how I feel about this. You think you have it bad after twenty years of getting to do whatever the hell you want, enjoying freedom and your own choices. I planned on escaping when I was seventeen. I’d been planning that for years. And when I was fifteen, my mother got pregnant and my chance for freedom was gone. No, you don’t have it so bad anymore, Director Graves, but keep looking at me like I’m going to be a burden. Just don’t pretend that’s not what you think because I’ve seen that look all my life.”  
  
Graves watches Credence and feels about a hundred different ways. He’s angry, angry at what Credence is assuming about his life, about what he did sacrifice to get what he wanted. But he also feels like Credence has landed some blows in a far different way, one that hurts.  
  
He doesn’t think anyone has ever spoken to him like this. Eliza and Sera, maybe, but they know him and love him, and he loves them. He barely knows Credence but he feels like Credence has torn open the book that is _Percival Graves_ and read every bit of it.  
  
Credence isn’t entirely right about some things but those things don’t matter, in the end, because he’s right about others. The ones that are currently affecting them both and are changing their lives.  
  
Graves doesn’t want to share his home with someone. He doesn’t want anyone in his home trying to make it theirs that he didn’t invite in.  
  
Credence is trying to come to grips with what he knows his sisters will go through while carrying the weight that he’s been sold like a cow for slaughter and believing whatever it is he believed Graves would do to him.  
  
It’s not hard to see who has it worse here, and Graves knew that. He did fucking know that and had been suffering guilt for it, but he’s bitter and resentful right now too.  
  
And taking it out on the wrong person.  
  
Graves sighs and presses his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands over his face and looking down at his cooling coffee. He rests his hand over it until it’s steaming again before he looks at Credence.  
  
Credence isn’t looking at him anymore, but down at the table, and there’s tension in every inch of him. His eyes are still wet but tears aren’t falling anymore and Graves is taken again by the fact that he looks incredibly unwell.  
  
“Credence,” he says quietly and doesn’t particularly blame Credence when he sees him clench his jaw. “Credence, I’m sorry. You’re not entirely right about me, but you’re right about the things that matter. I’m sorry I’ve taken what you’re going through for granted.” Credence looks at him then and there’s still plenty of anger in his eyes. “More than once,” Graves sighs.  
  
He doesn’t say anything immediately. He looks at Graves for a long while and Graves gets the distinct impression that Credence is viewing him the way he views criminals sitting across an interrogation from him. It makes him uneasy but he thinks it’s entirely fair because he’s put himself there anyway.  
  
Their waitress appears with their food and she must feel the tension because she only tells them to enjoy before she leaves quickly.  
  
“I know this isn’t ideal,” Credence says. “For me and you too. We’re never going to find an understanding while you think the way you do about this. While you’re being selfish.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows before he chuckles, unable to help it. He smiles when Credence looks at him warily and shakes his head. “I have been accused of being selfish once or twice in my life,” he says. “Pretty sure I’ve earned the right in some cases. Not in this one. I am truly sorry, Credence. You’re right. I want to work with you to come to that understanding.”  
  
Credence observes Graves for a while again before he looks down at his plate and nods. “I do too,” he says quietly. “So let’s work together and not against each other. We want the same thing and are facing the same adversity. We might figure it out if you can stand me during it.”  
  
That’s another not so gentle punch to the gut and Graves sighs. “I can’t stand most people, Credence,” he says and smiles faintly when Credence looks at him. “But I do immensely respect those that can stand tall and give assholes a piece of their mind.”  
  
That makes Credence smile, just a little, and he takes a slow bite of a fry. “You did deserve it.”  
  
“I did,” Graves sighs and watches Credence touch his coffee mug and frown. He reaches across the table and holds his hand over it until it begins to steam again. “I am fully committed to working together.”  
  
“Thank you,” Credence says and takes a drink of his coffee. He’s smiling when he sets it aside and looks at Graves. “We share a common enemy, Director Graves.”  
  
Graves laughs. “We do,” he agrees and shakes his head. “They’ll reap what they sowed one of these days, whether that’s before or after the big day. I did not get as far as I did with the full power of MACUSA at my disposal to roll over and not let them face repercussions. You can help me figure out what those will be.”  
  
Credence nods and bites his lip. “It’s hard to imagine what we could do,” he says. “But I’m sure you have ideas.” He smiles when Graves does. “Thank you for listening to me.”  
  
“Thank you for dressing me down,” Graves says and smirks when Credence looks down at his plate, his cheeks pink. “You can call me Percy. No more Director Graves. We are engaged, after all.”  
  
Credence huffs a small laugh and looks at Graves, his smile wider than any Graves has seen yet. “I don’t think I’ll be able to take you as seriously anymore if I call you Percy.”  
  
“Oh, good,” Graves says. “Then you’ll fit right in with everybody else who does.”  
  
“I’d like to meet those people.”  
  
“I am certain you will and probably sooner than you think. They’re good people.”  
  
“Do they dress you down often?”  
  
“You’ll have a shared interest with them already,” Graves says as he picks up half of his sandwich. “Should get along just fine.”  
  
Credence’s laugh is soft, not what it could be, Graves is sure, and he thinks it’s probably a terrible thing that he’d like to hear it someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the shortest chapter of the five lol please forgive Graves, he is a mess when losing control of his life. See you in a few days for part three and catching Feelings™!


	3. Chapter 3

It’s easier to dive into work and lead the department the way Graves has for the last seven years now. Some bit of the weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and that’s in knowing he has a tentative ally in Credence.  
  
Graves is genuinely impressed by the man Credence is behind the fear he carries and it only makes sense that he carries it the way he does. It makes him feel like a colossal jackass most of the time and immensely guilty all over again, mainly because it was more than just Credence that brought up the points he did.  
  
He knew them himself and still managed to work himself into a corner by thinking he was anything _more_ than Credence Barebone.  
  
They have to be allies in this and Graves will… be on his best behavior, he supposes, because he has no wish to upset Credence more than everything already has, including him.  
  
Focusing on work and all the complexities of it helps keep his mind off of the impending wedding, not all that far away, and knowing he has reached out to multiple corners in the meantime helps. He is used to waiting for Europe’s correspondence and it’s out of his hands, so patience comes back to him.  
  
Graves meets with Queenie and when she warns him they’re running out of places to look, he tells her to get back to the Wand Permit Office and if Abernathy so much as looks at her wrong to let him know.  
  
He has absolutely no patience for Abernathy and no patience for anyone that looks down on Queenie Goldstein or mistreats her. Mostly because she can read every bit of their minds, their deepest darkest secrets, which makes him paranoid, but he also enjoys her company.  
  
Merlin help him, he enjoys both the Goldsteins’ company.  
  
Sera’s aides are sent back upstairs and Graves isn’t pissed off about it. He doesn’t feel like he’s so frayed at the edges anymore because they’ve done all they could. He’s done all he can.  
  
And knowing Credence is on his side in this helps tremendously. He should probably thank him for that.  
  
Credence happens to only have Sundays off as well and he hadn’t told his mother or Silas that they plan on meeting on those days. They’ll find out this very Sunday and Graves isn’t entirely sure if dinner invitations will increase or stop altogether. He has absolutely no intention of having regular family dinners but at some point he will have to attend one, so he might find out what more is in store for them.  
  
Let alone an actual time, date and place.  
  
The disaster that day will be, a very public thing, Graves simply shoves to the back of his mind because it makes him feel sick if he thinks about it for longer than a few seconds.  
  
But if Credence has never been to a traditional Pureblood wedding, let alone one that’s been arranged, he’s going to need to be prepared for it. Graves isn’t looking forward to that conversation but _traditional_ Pureblood weddings have a different tone to them than just about all other wizarding weddings these days. More horrifying and solemn than fun and light-hearted.  
  
Merlin forbid anyone is happy on their wedding day.  
  
On Friday Graves gets two letters back from the witch and wizard he sent them to in Maine and Michigan, respectively, and they only say what Mister Carson and Credence had both said.  
  
Graves locks them away in his desk and he didn’t expect anything different but it’s still mildly disappointing.  
  
That evening he haltingly and with great reluctance tells Fontaine how lunch went because if he keeps it to himself it’d be another insult to Credence and Fontaine gives it to him the way Graves deserves but he does buy that night.  
  
On Saturday he tells Graves that Eldora wants to meet Credence as soon as possible.  
  
On Sunday Graves is woken by tapping in his living room and drags himself out of bed, not even five in the fucking morning, and walks out of his bedroom to see two owls sitting on the windowsill.  
  
One is carrying the morning paper, earlier than usual, and the other is holding a thin letter in its beak. Graves has a feeling neither of these things bode well for him but he takes them from the owls and is glad they don’t stick around to try and get treats because he is not in a forgiving mood.  
  
The letter is from the editor of the _Herald._  
  
 _Director Graves,_ _  
__  
__Chief pushed it out despite my objections. I apologize._ _  
__  
__J. Michaels_  
  
Graves sighs as he looks at the short note and supposes the man probably fears for his life after the conversation Graves had with him. He picks up the paper instead and opens it, seeing the bold print announcement on the damn front page.  
  
He laughs, unable to help it.  
  
His own picture he’s used to seeing in the papers and it’s no different today, taken during a press conference while he updated the public about one threat or another.  
  
Credence’s picture, however, is grainy and from the spring ball, after Silas began spreading the word and it no doubt reached the photographer. It’s when they’d come back in together from speaking outside and no touching up could fix it.  
  
But that’s only a momentary relief because Credence is named and it won’t take anyone very long to figure out where he works. Graves has no patience whatsoever for press hounding him for personal matters, which they’ve known not to do for some time now, but he will show no forgiveness for hounding Credence.  
  
He doubts Silas or Miss Barebone will like it either because Credence isn’t good at pretending to be happy - exactly the opposite, really - and that’s not a good look for anyone involved.  
  
Graves sighs and sits on his sofa and thinks about how far he should go. He knows what his instincts are but he thinks Credence won’t enjoy any Auror presence while he tries to get through his workday.  
  
Maybe he’ll approve of one just to ensure his days aren’t disturbed and only until this all starts to die down.  
  
Graves has time to get that done today after he sees Credence.  
  
He spends the morning drinking coffee and eating a good breakfast and catching up on a book he hasn’t had a moment to spare for. There’s a sense of calm now to know this is out there and there’s nothing more he can do. He’s been good at wiping his hands clean once he knows there is no fixing the problem and Graves is glad that’s sticking because he has a feeling Credence won’t be able to so easily.  
  
They’ve agreed to meet at eleven again and after Graves has showered and gotten dressed, he Disapparates and arrives in a quiet wizarding street. Hidden among no-majs with the same brownstones they live in and Graves is glad to see there’s no press presence here. The only way they’re getting the Barebones’ address is through one of the Barebones, his father, _Bottom’s Up_ or MACUSA and if it comes out of MACUSA, Graves is thoroughly prepared to make someone’s life a living hell.  
  
Anyone in MACUSA should know better but he deals with people who should know better every single day and trusts no one.  
  
Graves walks up the stoop and looks around the undecorated home. No flowers or shrubs like any other home along the street and he idly thinks about the soil being poisoned by Barebone’s evil heart as he knocks.  
  
The door swings open only seconds later, and Graves smiles.  
  
“Good morning, Miss Barebone.”  
  
Modesty peers up at him, narrowing her eyes as if she’s trying to get a read on him. “Good morning, Director Graves,” she says slowly. “Do you read the newspaper?”  
  
“Occasionally,” Graves says. “Was there something interesting in it today?”  
  
Modesty smiles like she can’t help it from his teasing tone. “Credence is hiding in his bedroom while Mama’s out for a while.”  
  
“Merlin, I am not,” Credence says as he comes down a long flight of stairs behind Modesty, hurrying to the door and glancing out of it and around the street. “Go back to the kitchen.”  
  
“They’re not hiding in the bushes, Credence,” Modesty says and sighs when he shoos her away. “Bye, Director Graves!”  
  
“Miss Barebone,” Graves says with an amused smile as he looks at Credence. “They’re really not hiding in the bushes. I already checked.”  
  
Credence shoots him an irritable frown, but his cheeks are red. “This is bad, isn’t it? Ma didn’t say anything. She just read the article and said she had to go shopping.”  
  
“Well, we know where she went then,” Graves says and smiles. “Are you going to invite me in?”  
  
“I suppose we won’t be going to lunch today,” Credence says, still so pale, fidgeting with his sleeves as he steps aside and gestures Graves in. “I don’t know how Ma will feel if she sees you here.”  
  
“Thrilled, I would expect, I’m practically family,” Graves says dryly as he steps inside.  
  
The brownstone is massive, the staircase in front of them one of two leading to the upper floors. There are living rooms on both sides and it would normally be beautiful, all cherry wood and numerous bright windows, but the windows have thick, drawn curtains over them and the lighting is low enough to make it feel oppressive.  
  
Not much of a surprise, really, and when Credence leads him into the living room, he’s not really surprised by the furniture either. It reminds him of the manor, too formal and stiff, comfort not thought of for even a moment, and he is familiar enough with how it feels to live in a place that never actually feels like a home.  
  
No warmth to speak of and if Barebone is anything like his mother was, a very firm word or hand if anything that shouldn’t be touched is.  
  
“I’d say we could go somewhere else but I can’t leave Modesty alone,” Credence says as he sits stiffly on the sofa. Or it’s the sofa that’s so stiff, floral cushions that don’t sink from his weight and intricately carved wood jutting against his back.  
  
Graves sits down as well. “Not likely a good idea,” he says and looks at Credence, who looks embarrassed and full of despair simultaneously. “You spend most of your time at work or home.”  
  
“Yes,” Credence says. “I don’t have the luxury of friends.” He looks a bit shocked by himself, like that wasn’t what he meant to say. “I don’t go anywhere unless Ma tells me to get groceries or run other errands for her. Going to your family manor and spring balls is new to me.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I know it is,” he says. “It’ll be alright, Credence.”  
  
“How?” Credence croaks. “My name was in that article at least fifteen times.”  
  
“Couldn’t have anyone forgetting it any time soon,” Graves says and smiles when Credence looks at him with a frown. “They’ll know where you work by this evening if they don’t already. It’s alright,” he says again when Credence grimaces. “I’ll likely put an Auror in the store with you until the next bit of exciting news makes people forget. That’s usually one to two weeks. Maybe a bit longer.”  
  
Credence stares at Graves for a while before he sighs heavily and nods. “I don’t know how my boss will feel about that,” he mutters. “But if you think it’s best.”  
  
“I very much do. Peace of mind for both of us,” Graves says. “We can still go out for lunch when your mother gets back.”  
  
Credence looks queasy. “People will stare, won’t they?”  
  
“There are plenty of places I go where people don’t stare at me, but they may today. I’m not worried about those people,” Graves says. “We’ll have privacy either way.”  
  
“Alright,” Credence says and rubs the back of his neck. “How are you so calm about this?”  
  
Graves laughs. “Not only have I been in the paper weekly for years, but this particular reason why is well out of my hands now. What more can we do about it? No sense worrying about it when it’s already done,” he says and smiles when Credence only looks more upset. “I’m not expecting you not to worry, but you might get used to it sooner than you think.”  
  
“I’d rather not have to get used to it at all,” Credence says and shakes his head. “I just wanted to brew potions and take care of my sisters.”  
  
“You’ll keep doing both of those things,” Graves says. “I’ll make sure of it. Do you actually like brewing at _Bottom’s Up?”_  
  
Credence looks at him with some wariness, but he deflates, any fight leaving him, and shakes his head. “I do like brewing, but it’s not interesting. It’s the same thing every day, almost,” he says. “I didn’t speak to the MACUSA official who oversaw my Potions HARE and get his recommendation letter without thinking about more than this, Percy.”  
  
“That’s what I thought,” Graves says. “When you’re away from here, if things don’t go our way, you have no reason to stay there anymore. Could find something a lot more interesting and a lot more private.”  
  
“A MACUSA offshoot,” Credence says as he peers at Graves.  
  
“No one without valid identification gets to go in those breweries and no more customers,” Graves says and smiles when Credence does, very faintly. “We’ll see how things play out, but I don’t expect much, to be honest.”  
  
“Neither do I,” Credence mutters and rubs his arm. “Not much works out in my favor.”  
  
Graves sighs gently. He can understand why Credence feels that way - nothing much has worked out in his favor in his life - but there are ways to change that. Whether it’s by marrying Graves or not, Credence can change things, but Graves knows that’s a conversation for later.  
  
“Let’s focus on today,” Graves says. “And maybe a good lunch with good conversation. We’re excellent at those.”  
  
Credence smiles and shakes his head. “You know, when I was a teenager, I always hoped that if I married he’d have a sense of humor.”  
  
“I do have a fantastic one.”  
  
“Maybe,” Credence says. “I didn’t expect any humor at all.”  
  
“I am very aware of that,” Graves says with a wry smile. “We’re both likely in for a few surprises yet.”  
  
“Pleasant ones, I hope,” Credence says and looks up at Modesty as she walks into the living room.  
  
“I thought you were leaving,” she says, carrying paper and crayons. She sits on the ground next to the coffee table and continues a drawing of what looks like a… Veela, if Graves isn’t mistaken. “Credence says he’ll be allowed to see me and Chastity after he’s married.”  
  
Graves watches her and feels his heart twinge in pain. “Credence was always going to be able to see you after we’re married,” he says. “I’m sorry if you were told differently.”  
  
Modesty looks up at him. “Where will you live after you’re married?”  
  
“Credence is going to move into my apartment with me. In Uptown,” Graves says. “Only a jump away, remember?”  
  
Modesty smiles faintly and turns back to her drawing. “I hope so,” she says. “I didn’t know people were arranged to be married sometimes.”  
  
“It’s not very common these days,” Credence says and the pain on his face is plainly written until Modesty looks at him and he smiles. “An old tradition.”  
  
“A Graves family tradition,” Modesty says and looks at Graves. “Mister Graves said that.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Some of my family followed tradition and some didn’t,” he says. “My sister married her best friend.”  
  
“I didn’t know you had a sister,” Modesty says. “How old is she?”  
  
“Ancient,” Graves says and smiles when Modesty grins. “She’s forty-three years old.”  
  
“That is old,” Modesty agrees. “Chastity’s _History of Magic_ professor is almost ninety.”  
  
“Professor Ironwood,” Graves says with a smirk. “I thought he was almost ninety when I was eleven.”  
  
Credence laughs. “She says he’s still very energetic.”  
  
“A surprise to all first years year after year,” Graves says and chuckles. “He probably won’t retire until he’s well into his hundreds.”  
  
Modesty giggles. “He can teach his own history before then.”  
  
Graves and Credence laugh and watch her smile and turn back to her drawing. Graves looks at Credence, smiling at his sister with unmistakable affection, but he thinks nothing will ease the worry in his eyes for a while yet.  
  
When the door unlocks and opens, Graves watches their smiles vanish, and it feels faintly like any joy that’s ever existed has been sucked out of the room just as quickly.  
  
Graves looks at Mary Lou Barebone as she steps inside the living room and wonders if a Patronus would work as well on her as Dementors. He smiles when Mary Lou looks at him and can’t quite mask her shock to see him so easily.  
  
“Director Graves,” she says, her voice as deceptively calm as it always is. “What a surprise to see you here today.”  
  
“I think we all had a surprise today opening the paper,” Graves says. “It seemed sensible to speak about that surprise with my fiancé. You’ll understand my concern for his safety.”  
  
Mary Lou Barebone smiles tightly, but her eyes plainly speak how very little she appreciates Graves. “Of course,” she says. “Modesty, please go upstairs. Such conversations shouldn’t happen in front of children.”  
  
“They’ve already happened, ma’am, but you’re right, and she wasn’t in the room,” Graves says and smiles more widely when she stares at him. “Fortunately, these things are familiar to my department. And now that I know Credence and I both have today free, I’m going to take him to lunch.”  
  
Modesty glances furtively between them all until her mother looks at her, and she takes her drawing and hurries to the stairs. Barebone looks at Credence but he’s avoiding her eye.  
  
“Of course,” she says. “It has been a surprising morning for us all, as you say. Might I ask what sort of protection my son will have from reporters?”  
  
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss procedures for such things,” Graves says and stands. “Credence will let me know if your family is harassed by anyone here and we’ll discuss it more on that day.”  
  
“It seems that would only be a matter of time,” Mary Lou says. “I would hardly want Modesty frightened by people lurking outside.”  
  
“If they come here, they won’t lurk after I’ve spoken with them,” Graves says simply and truthfully. “I have no desire for any of us to have our privacy invaded but Credence and I will take the brunt of it and do what we can to ensure you keep your privacy.”  
  
“Then I suppose I should thank you, Director Graves, for being concerned for my family,” Mary Lou says. “I’m afraid it comes with these types of things for you both, such well-known names.”  
  
“It does,” Graves agrees. “What I wouldn’t have given for an advanced warning to save us all this headache. You did have thirty years’ notice.”  
  
“We’ll be back soon, Ma,” Credence says as he stands and moves a little closer to his mother. “Director Graves has things sorted.”  
  
“Indeed he does,” Mary Lou says as she stares at Graves before looking at Credence. “When will you be back?”  
  
“Can’t rush these things, I’m afraid,” Graves says and smiles when she looks at him, like it’s the last thing she wants to do. “We do have a lot of time to catch up on as far as getting to know each other goes. Before six, if you’d prefer,” he adds because Credence is looking at him rather desperately.  
  
Mary Lou nods shortly. “Yes, that’s fine,” she says. “I’m glad to see you taking this seriously, Director Graves.”  
  
“I apologize for not doing so at the beginning,” Graves says. “I’ll always have busy days but I will take the time out when I need to.” He looks at Credence and gestures toward the door. “Let’s go get lunch.”  
  
Credence nods faintly. “I’ll be home by this evening, Ma,” he says without quite looking at her.  
  
She doesn’t say anything else, and Graves and Credence walk outside into a warm spring day. They walk down the stoop and further down the sidewalk before Credence looks at Graves.  
  
“I don’t know if I should laugh or cry when you’re staring at each other like that,” he mutters. “Please remember that I live with her when you’re not here.”  
  
“I know,” Graves sighs. “Sorry. I am used to not giving a shit with these types of people, especially anyone my father is remotely involved with. I don’t know if it’ll help,” he adds, “but reminding your mother that your well-being is one of my priorities might give her a clue.”  
  
Credence huffs. “She’ll either kill me or become mean in other ways,” he says and glances back at the house. “She hasn’t been snapping at Modesty as much lately.”  
  
“That’s a win for both of us, Credence,” Graves says and smiles when he frowns. “It means she knows I’m watching and it means she’s accepting what you might tell me. She’s far more worried about losing this sort of life and ruining her name than she is about punishing you for spending time alone with me. That’s good to know.”  
  
Credence bites his lip and nods. “I suppose it is,” he says softly. “It won’t matter when I leave here.”  
  
“Of course it will,” Graves gently chides. “You’ll see your sisters as much as you want. When we are officially wed, your mother will need to be more careful because she’ll have nothing over us anymore. And she’ll know it. Things will get better.”  
  
“I want to believe that,” Credence says as he peers at Graves with a frown. “I think I might.”  
  
“I play these games often, Credence, and I know the way their minds work from my personal experience on top of it. You do too. You and your sisters will be okay.” He offers his arm.  
  
“Thank you, Percy,” Credence says, still looking at Graves and he looks taken aback. “For thinking of them too.” He takes Graves’ arm.  
  
“The less damaged children there are in this world means less damaged adults. Which means fewer arrests and fewer cells filled,” Graves says wryly. “And other lives saved. Plus, since it seems we are shit out of luck getting out of this, you and your sisters will be family. What are we if we can't protect our own family? I do realize how hypocritical that sounds after our last conversation.”  
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head. “I’m willing to move past it if you are,” he says and smiles when Graves winks. “I’m glad you feel the way you do about things.”  
  
Whether Credence believes Graves feels this way is another thing altogether, but they’ll get there, Graves knows. He’ll let his actions speak louder than words in this, which is what they both need from each other.  
  
“Come on,” Graves says. “Let’s get lunch.”  
  
He Disapparates from the neighborhood and out of Manhattan entirely.  
  
“Oh,” Credence says in surprise as he sways a little and Graves keeps a hold of him. “I thought we were staying in the city.”  
  
“I suppose you don’t use Apparition for longer distances,” Graves says and smiles as he pats Credence’s back. “My apologies. Thought you might want to get away from it for a while.”  
  
Credence looks around and smiles. “Well,” he says, “if getting away from it all means here, then yes. Definitely.”  
  
“Spectacular view of sunrises and sunsets,” Graves says. “They’re only closed a few hours each night but it’s secluded enough that not many people outside of Rhode Island know about it.”  
  
“Rhode Island?” Credence asks and laughs. “You made that seem easy. It’s beautiful here.”  
  
They’re standing on a pier in a small, secluded bay. It doesn’t look like anything but a rocky and inaccessible jut on the water to no-majs and turns them away if they get too near. Newport Beach isn’t so far away, tiny sailboats visible in the distance.  
  
There’s a large tree growing out of the rocky shore near the pier, hanging over it with lanterns on its branches, all done by magic, but it gives it a whimsical sort of feel that Graves has always been fond of. The restaurant itself is down at the end of the pier, more lanterns bobbing above it, not lit but adding a certain charm anyway.  
  
They walk down the pier and to the restaurant, all open doors and windows, allowing for an uninterrupted view of the water from most tables and a nice breeze during the warmer months. During winter, the windows and doors are closed, and there’s a large fireplace in the back for a cozier atmosphere.  
  
Graves has been here numerous times and yet he’s never taken a date here, he realizes. They’re not on a date but Credence is his fiancé whether they like it or not, and if they can manage to get through this and maybe even become friends, he suspects they’ll come here now and then.  
  
He doesn’t have a reservation but that hasn’t mattered for a long time, and they’re seated at a table next to an open window overlooking the water.  
  
“I’ve never been anywhere like this before,” Credence says. “I didn’t even know there were places like this.”  
  
Graves watches Credence look around, a smile on his face, and feels his heart twinge in pain again. For all the money his mother has been given, it seems like she doesn’t take her family out very often. At least not to quality establishments, which this one is, though certainly not as expensive as they’d find in Manhattan.  
  
But his father rarely bothers with fine dining too, only on the rare occasion did he even go to meet associates at a cigar club, and Graves doesn’t know if he does that anymore.  
  
Neither of them would ever sink so low as to go to no-maj establishments, and yet they know that despite carrying respected names, no one is going to lay down a red carpet for them.  
  
Graves enjoys fine dining because he enjoys fine food and liquor and occasionally the company of friends while he does it, but he does like to dine by himself if he makes the time.  
  
No, this place isn’t ritzy or wildly expensive but Credence is gazing around like he’s seeing something out of a dream and it makes Graves… well, it makes him a lot of things.  
  
Angry and guilt-ridden, of course, he expects to keep feeling those things for a while. But he’s sad for Credence too, for him and his sisters, to live such abnormal lives while they live in the heart of Manhattan, on a wizarding street filled with wizarding families living normal lives.  
  
He experienced an abnormal life himself stuck in the middle of the forest until the day he turned seventeen and never had to go back, but his experiences certainly aren’t as severe as Credence’s.  
  
“What?” Credence asks, and Graves realizes he’s looking at him warily.  
  
“Nothing,” Graves says with a smile. “Just thinking about other places we can go on Sundays. I know a lot of decent spots for lunch that aren’t in Manhattan.”  
  
“I’m sure you do,” Credence says. “How’d you find out about this one?”  
  
“The Madam President,” Graves says. “Her family went on vacation in Newport before she was the Madam President and found this gem. We try to come once a year and that’s difficult enough as it is.”  
  
“Just you two?”  
  
“And about a dozen Aurors, yes,” Graves says with a smirk. “Takes a few weeks to plan and is a bit of a headache just for seafood and cocktails on the water.”  
  
“This is a lot different from New York for seafood and cocktails on the water, though.”  
  
“Precisely why we still come back,” Graves says and smiles. “You and I have plenty of options until things go quiet again.”  
  
Credence hums and nods. They order drinks - iced tea for Credence and whiskey for Graves - from their waitress, and when she walks away, Credence looks at Graves.  
  
“You don’t worry about your own safety while you’re out?”  
  
“I am Sera’s best defense when we’re out together, so I happen to be my own too,” Graves chuckles. “I only have my team accompany me in certain situations.”  
  
Credence looks a little green. “You’ve never, umm… you’ve never been attacked, have you?”  
  
“Dining out?” Graves asks with a laugh. “No, but I never say never. Most sane people wouldn’t dare attack me in public, Credence. You don’t have to worry about that.”  
  
Credence sighs and nods, looking down at the dark and pristinely shined wood of the table. “Do I have to worry about the people you come across in your work in any other way?”  
  
“It’s always a danger,” Graves says. “Which is why I would be more comfortable knowing you’re not at _Bottom’s Up._ No one knows where I live beyond people who need to, and when the time comes, I’ll ask you not to tell anyone where it is. Few people know and some of them only know for safety reasons. So tell me first if you want to invite anyone over but it’ll likely be a no.”  
  
Credence huffs a laugh and smiles. “I’m sure I could meet with people away from your apartment,” he says. “I don’t know if Ma would let my sisters come over without her being there.”  
  
“I will actively repel your mother with numerous spells if she tries to get near my apartment,” Graves says dryly. “If you want your sisters over, they’ll come over. We’re going to be at an advantage eventually.”  
  
“I suppose so,” Credence says with a smile. “We’ll see in three months or so.”  
  
“So you don’t have any idea about the dates for either a ceremony or our deaths?”  
  
“Unfortunately not,” Credence says. “Ma says they’ll tell us when it’s closer and things have been set for it. I’m thinking it must be before the end of August because she’s mentioned Chastity will be there, and she won’t have her sent home for a weekend right after starting term.”  
  
Graves narrows his eyes and nods. “Mid-August does seem about right,” he says. “Invitations will go out soon.”  
  
“That’s not too soon?”  
  
“It’s already almost too late,” Graves says. “Some will go far beyond New York. People will comment on it the day of, but they wouldn’t have sent them until it was announced anyway.”  
  
Credence grimaces. “How many people are going to watch us get married?”  
  
“If we’re lucky, less than two hundred,” Graves says and smiles a little when Credence pales. “You and I need to talk about Pureblood weddings. But I also have to invite a great many people myself to keep up my own political relationships. Don’t worry, Credence, no one there will matter except the people you want to. It’s going to be a place for gossip and insulting comments about the wedding and the world in general.”  
  
“That sounds like a horrible wedding,” Credence croaks. “I’ve never even been to a normal wedding.”  
  
“Lucky you,” Graves chuckles. “As far as I’m concerned, there are only three key appearances we need to make so we’re not deemed disrespectful - pictures, ceremony and dinner - and then we’ll ditch the place.”  
  
Credence smiles and rests his chin in his hand. “I might die if two hundred people are staring at me before we can.”  
  
Graves smiles. “I’ve never had a problem with crowds or addressing them. Ceremonies,” he says. “I’ll help you if you need it. I don’t plan on letting anyone separate either of us.”  
  
“Will they try?”  
  
“Fuck yes they will,” Graves laughs. “Like an interrogation. Split them up and see if their stories are the same. If not, proceed with damaging gossip. It’s how these people work.”  
  
“If there are two hundred people there, how can you be so sure we won’t get separated?”  
  
“I will chain us together if I have to,” Graves says. “Don’t worry about it. I have already made numerous plans of my own for this shitshow because I like to plan ahead for the worst.”  
  
“I guess I should be grateful then,” Credence says with some amusement. “Thank you,” he says when their waitress brings their drinks.  
  
They order lunch and once she’s walked away, Graves looks at Credence and smiles. “It’ll probably be the worst day of the year for both of us, but we’ll get through it. Vomit beforehand and drink through the rest of the day and it’ll be more tolerable.”  
  
“I don’t know, everything new you tell me makes it seem like the least tolerable thing in the world,” Credence says and looks down at the table with a sigh. “I suppose we’ll find out more soon. Maybe we can talk about something other than the worst day of the year for us.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
Credence shrugs. “We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, aren’t we? Maybe we should figure out how we’re going to live around each other.”  
  
“I’ve already told you you’ll have a choice of bedroom and your own bathroom,” Graves says. “I suppose I should show you the apartment one of these days. It’s spacious, so we won’t be on top of each other.”  
  
Credence nods and tugs at his sleeves. “I get up early for work. Right now, anyway, with _Bottom’s Up.”_  
  
“I assure you I get up earlier. I tend to be in the office by six, so I’d recommend Silencing Charms.”  
  
“What time do you get home?”  
  
“Six or seven. Sometimes one in the morning, if it’s been a shit day. Saturdays I try to get home by four but that rarely works out,” Graves says and smiles faintly when Credence gapes at him. “I never was lying when I said I’m busy.”  
  
“Do you come home and have dinner and immediately go to sleep?”  
  
“Sometimes,” Graves laughs. “Sometimes I have a glass of whiskey and read a book for a while. Sundays are usually for recovering and getting groceries and anything else I need.”  
  
Credence shakes his head. “How do you manage it? I can’t stand working the hours I do.”  
  
“You brew the same potions every day so I don’t blame you,” Graves sighs. “If you were at a place you actually enjoyed with shorter hours, I imagine you’d enjoy it quite a bit more. I manage because I thrive on this life and my days tend to never be exactly the same. Keeps it interesting.”  
  
“And dangerous, I’m sure,” Credence says, wrinkling his nose.  
  
“Not as much as it used to be, but yes, there’s always a risk,” Graves says and raises his whiskey. “But despite how often the bastards try to take me down, criminals and my father alike, here I stand.”  
  
Credence grins and shakes his head. “Try to make sure you still are by the wedding too, please. I don’t think anything good will happen to me if you die before then.”  
  
Graves takes a drink and sets his glass aside. “So now I get to think about not only saving my ass in the field but saving yours too?” he asks. “I’m starting to think this is a bad deal.”  
  
“I should definitely wait for a job brewing experimental and deadly potions,” Credence says. “Or I’d have to worry about you too.”  
  
“Thank Merlin you don’t have to worry about me now,” Graves says and shakes his head when Credence laughs. “If you’d rather not talk at all about the wedding or how we most likely hate each other’s interests, my friends want to meet you soon.”  
  
Credence nearly chokes on his iced tea and coughs. “They do? Really?” he asks and looks wary. “Do you mean the President?”  
  
“She is one of my friends,” Graves says with a smirk. “We can wait a little while for Sera. My sister and I are close. She and her husband want to meet you, as well as my friend and his wife.”  
  
“Oh,” Credence says and wipes off his forehead. “Alright. Are any of them Aurors?”  
  
Graves laughs. “Theo Fontaine is one of my Captains and my second in the department. Through an unfortunate set of circumstances, we’ve been friends since we were eleven and I’m fond of his wife too. I promise you they’re good people, Credence.”  
  
“Alright,” Credence says and looks overwhelmed. “I don’t think they’ll like me.”  
  
“Pretty sure they’ve all already told me they do.”  
  
“You talk to them about me?”  
  
“They’ve been helping us try to find a way out of this in their own spare time. But yes, I do.”  
  
“Then why do they like me? We haven’t exactly…” Credence trails off, his cheeks pink and grimaces.  
  
“That’s precisely why they like you,” Graves says darkly. “Who do you think has called me selfish beyond you?”  
  
Credence blushes more. “They like that I told you off?”  
  
“Mhmm. I did tell you it’s a shared interest you have with them,” Graves says and picks up his whiskey. “Good friends always do when it’s deserved.”  
  
“I’ve never had friends like that,” Credence says a little breathlessly. “I had… I had some good friends in Ilvermorny but we lost touch when we graduated. I’m pretty sure I’ll mess it up even if they like the sound of me.”  
  
Graves smiles and takes a sip of the whiskey. “You won’t, Credence,” he says. “And we’ll take it slow if you want. But getting to know them is getting to know me. They’re already on our side. I think it might be good for you to see it’s not just you and me alone in this.”  
  
Credence looks at Graves for a while, and he’s still pale, still looks mildly overwhelmed, but there’s something else in his eyes. They’re brighter but Graves thinks it’s inspired by hope rather than by anger.  
  
He dearly hopes so anyway.  
  
“That would be nice to see,” Credence says softly. “What do we do if we find a way out of this?”  
  
Graves gazes at Credence and thinks about that truly stunning question.  
  
Going back to the way things were would be a good thing for him. Going back to his bachelorhood without worrying about anyone in his home, without worrying about being married and changing his life to fit that. Working the way he always has and enjoying life the way he wants it the most.  
  
But that can’t happen anymore. If they were to find a way out of this, Credence would face dire circumstances and his sisters would likely join him in that. If they beat their parents and took this away from them, Credence is the one who faces retaliation, especially if Silas stops giving money to Mary Lou because Credence wouldn’t be useful to him anymore.  
  
If Mary Lou has only ever looked at him as an object gathering value until she cashes in and doesn’t have to think about him again, only enjoy her spoils, and she has all of that taken away before it could happen, she would become volatile.  
  
And Graves might not have cared if he’d stayed away from Credence, but he didn’t.  
  
He knows Credence’s circumstances, he knows his sisters’, and he’s learning who they are beyond them.  
  
Letting them become victims of their mother, even if there’s such a slim chance of it, is simply out of the question.  
  
“I don’t think there is a way out of this,” Graves says quietly. “But you won’t be alone again, Credence. You’ll have people on your side still. Myself included.”  
  
Credence watches Graves and his lips are gently parted. He looks afraid and he looks like he desperately wants to believe what Graves is saying. He bites his lip and looks down at the table, nodding.  
  
“Thank you,” he says. “That would be more than anyone’s given me before.”  
  
Oh, Graves understands. He understands why Credence sounds like he doesn’t honestly believe it. He’s been let down all his life and lied to by his mother, who has kept him isolated from his peers, from friends Credence likely cared a great deal for, and who never would have had the chance to help him, especially if they didn’t know what he faced.  
  
Graves doesn’t know what he can do other than show Credence he means this. To show him he’s not alone and some people are looking forward to meeting him not because they want to suss him out, but because they want to support him.  
  
He’s lucky enough he has those people in his life and isn’t sure he ever earned that entirely, but Credence has merely with the truth Graves has told them.  
  
He’s a genuine person living in the middle of an ingenuine world and that’s rare. He hasn’t been completely broken by his world. He still has plenty of fight left in him; Graves knows that well, and he hopes Credence keeps hold of that for the next few months.  
  
For the rest of his life, even, that fighting spirit, but hopefully in better circumstances and soon too.  
  
Lunch comes then and Graves tries to push these thoughts away for later. He merely watches Credence enjoy a bowl of clam chowder and a crispy fried fish sandwich.  
  
They talk about lighter things instead and learn that their interests do vary, but they have quite a few in common too.  
  
Graves listens to Credence tell him what his favorite book is about and watches him smile and gesture with his hands, a little more lively than he’s been yet, and thinks that maybe, just maybe, this was never going to be the nightmare he feared.  
  
Credence’s genuine laughter shows what a broad smile he has. Shows what he might look like every day if he didn’t carry such a heavy burden.  
  
No, this isn’t the nightmare Graves feared.  
  
He thinks he may have found something better instead.  
  
——  
  
They stay at the restaurant for a long time, well after lunch is finished, talking about seemingly anything and everything. When they do leave, Graves takes Credence to MACUSA and his department.  
  
He is nervous, pale, and always tugging at his sleeves, but Graves speaks to Barrows about assigning one of his team to _Bottom’s Up_ and ensuring no members of the press get their hands on Credence. They tell him to use the storage room to Apparate in and out and not to worry about his boss, who will likely be thankful for the presence of an Auror keeping unsavory people out.  
  
Graves also tells them to have eyes on the Barebone home throughout the next few weeks and to come down hard on the press if they show up.  
  
Credence looks both afraid and relieved by these things, but Barrows assures him that their interest will move on soon enough, as Graves had said.  
  
Barrows doesn’t seem to know if he should offer congratulations or not, but he’s a wise man and chooses not to, in the end. It’d probably only make Credence uncomfortable, but Graves knows he will have to address this with Barrows and Jauncey in the next few days.  
  
They need to prepare for the chance of him dying due to blood magic, but he doesn’t plan on letting it happen either way.  
  
They go to Central Park after because no one will be lurking around there and take a long walk under the trees. It smells fresh and alive and faintly floral from wildflowers and flowering bushes and Graves is glad to see that Credence’s shoulders don’t carry so much tension today.  
  
When the sun begins to set and six is swiftly approaching, Graves takes Credence home and tells him to take care of himself. He watches Credence walk up the stairs and open his door, glancing back at Graves and offering a small smile before he disappears inside.  
  
Graves thinks about putting protections on the home as he can’t feel anything whatsoever but decides not to because he doesn’t need anyone feeling that magical signature while no one knows where they live.  
  
He leaves and goes home and looks around his apartment when he steps inside. The idea of someone living with him still bothers him but not quite as much anymore because that someone is Credence. If he had been what his father told him he was initially, a loyal son prepared to do his duty, it would likely be a hostile living environment that would have forced him to move into a larger space so he could avoid his spouse.  
  
But Credence isn’t likely to intrude on his own space and the space they share won’t be entirely uncomfortable, Graves thinks. Credence enjoys peace and solitude, that hadn’t been a lie, and it’s not a shock why they both do.  
  
Graves doubts anything will happen in the coming months that changes that, that pushes things into hostile territory again, because life will be better if they’re working together.  
  
It’s very much going to happen and that’s confirmed two and a half weeks later when Graves has gotten replies from everyone he’d sent a letter to. None of them say anything different, no new information to glean, not even from the wizard in Germany who rambles about other blood magic that Graves is already familiar with.  
  
Not to mention the invitations have gone out, ugly and too-formal things, and his father had sent him blank stacks for his own invitations to send out. Thrilled, probably, to know such influential people will receive one. Graves gets them sent off, not feeling any particular way about it and only smiles shortly in MACUSA whenever anyone dares to congratulate him.  
  
They’re in this for the long haul and thankfully, after the last couple of lunches and Sundays spent together, Graves and Credence are getting along.  
  
There’s still some tension now and then, they barely know each other, and if Credence feels like Graves is talking down to him at all, he goes on the defensive, which makes Graves defensive because he isn’t talking down to Credence. But they’re able to overcome those moments fairly quickly, and Credence did tell him last Sunday that he figured him out.  
  
 _You’re just a snob,_ is what Credence had said, and it both smarted and made him laugh, but Eliza tells him he _is_ a snob when he tells her about it, and Graves can’t argue with that.  
  
He may hate high society, but he does like the finer things in life and has a low opinion of just about everyone else, but they haven’t experienced _everyone else_ as he has for twenty years.  
  
Credence and Graves have managed to dodge most press looking for a statement or pictures, and Credence admits he’s grateful for Night, one of Graves’ seniors, in his workplace because he’s kept plenty of people out, enough so that they’re beginning to dwindle.  
  
There have been articles written about the Barebone family in the newspapers that like to speculate and publish bullshit, with interviews from people who claim they know them and some of them do. Still, nothing is damaging enough that Graves feels a need to step in and he tells Credence not to read anything at all, along with his mother and sisters.  
  
Chastity has written to Credence, and she’s not particularly going through a good time because children are even more brazen than the press, but she’s home only days later, which is a relief for them all.  
  
A few days before the fourth Sunday that Graves will meet with Credence, a familiar eagle owl shows up on his windowsill and Graves takes the letter from him, thinking it’s about damn time and opens the letter from his father.  
  
 _Percival,_ _  
__  
__As everything is planned and the date is set, we must discuss the event. Dinner will be served at seven on Sunday and missing it would be unwise. There is so little time left, after all._  
  
Graves shakes his head and balls up the letter, setting it on fire as he does with all the rest and letting it burn in his fireplace.  
  
August 21st is _the big day,_ barely two and a half months away, and Graves is beginning to feel detached from it like it’s happening to someone else and not him.  
  
This is likely a good thing because Credence is growing increasingly anxious and looks paler and withdrawn each time Graves sees him, and he can only try to reassure him, but he doesn’t have the perfect words to say to get him to feel any better about this. Graves doesn’t blame him and thinks as soon as family fucking dinner is finished, he needs to get Credence with his friends whether he’s ready for it or not because he needs more support.  
  
On Sunday, after working most of the day to keep his mind occupied, Graves goes home and changes and has a shot of whiskey before he leaves for the manor.  
  
It’s still cool in the forest, but there’s no snow, and flowers are beginning to bloom on bushes someone is taking care of, and the fountains are trickling water. It’s more of an ominous sound than something pleasant, and Graves strides through the courtyard and up the steps to the door, which swings open to allow him entrance.  
  
Graves goes to the kitchens again, and Miss Sterling and Miss Willows don’t seem surprised to see him, but Miss Willows says she can’t serve him a whiskey at the table. She can’t tell him where it is either because she doesn’t know where the bottles have gone, and Graves laughs and tells her not to worry about it.  
  
He’ll drown himself in it when he gets home.  
  
Graves walks down to the dining room and when he steps inside, he’s not surprised to see his father, Mary Lou and Credence already seated, but Modesty and Chastity aren’t joining them this evening, apparently.  
  
“Good evening,” Graves says and takes a seat, looking at Credence, who is giving him that exasperated look he does whenever he’s getting on Mary Lou’s nerves. “Apologies for my tardiness,” he says flatly because he’s only five damn minutes late.  
  
“We’re honored you showed up at all,” Silas says with a short smile. “I am glad to know you’ve been taking this seriously and giving Mister Barebone your time.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Graves says and grabs his glass of ice water and takes a drink. “August 21st then and at the New York Botanical Gardens. Beautiful venue.”  
  
“With enough space for all of your guests,” Silas agrees. “You’ve sent your invitations?”  
  
“Most have already come back marked attending,” Graves says and smiles. “President Picquery regrets she’ll miss it.”  
  
Silas raises his eyebrows. “Your dearest friend won’t be attending?”  
  
“Not only was she given very little notice to make room for it in her schedule, but I too was given very little notice, and a prolonged public appearance of the President of MACUSA takes months of planning for my department. Invitations went out less than three weeks ago, so you’ll have to forgive the impossibility of it.”  
  
Silas isn’t pleased, and the way he’s looking at Graves says he thinks that’s a bullshit excuse, and it nearly makes Graves laugh because it’s an entirely real reason it can’t happen.  
  
There are downsides to all nefarious plans, Graves wants to tell him, but it’s not worth it.  
  
“What a shame for her to miss it,” Mary Lou says. “Mister Graves has told us you’ve been close to her since you attended Ilvermorny.”  
  
“Attached at the hip ever since,” Graves says and smiles. “Though these days it’s certainly harder to spend any meaningful time together. Such busy schedules. Mister Barebone and I are very interested to know what our wedding day is going to look like.”  
  
“We have plenty of time tonight to discuss it,” Silas says. “What’s the rush, Percival?”  
  
“Bad news is always best to get out of the way first,” Graves says and smiles when Credence rubs his temple and shakes his head. “I do think Mister Barebone and I are owed some time to prepare for this.”  
  
“You’ll have the time after tonight,” Silas says with some sternness. “But if you wish to dive right in.” He smiles like it pains him to. “Miss Barebone informs me you _have_ told Credence how a traditional wedding goes.”  
  
“Yes, it seemed a kindness,” Graves says. “Who’s officiating?”  
  
“Aron Oliver,” Silas says and has abandoned what little patience he has for Graves, which is perfectly fine with Graves.  
  
“Aron Oliver,” Graves repeats and chuckles. “I suppose I should have known. The man does love to hear himself speak. Fine. Do you have a schedule for us?”  
  
“After dinner, yes,” Silas says. “And your duties for that day.”  
  
“Duties by your standard or the blood magic’s?”  
  
Silas merely smiles, and Graves stares at him and feels anger. He keeps it off his face, but Silas knows his son as well as Graves knows his father, and his smile only widens.  
  
Credence clears his throat. “Director Graves and I were wondering who is going to be in the wedding party?” he asks Silas politely. “Because of the traditions the wedding party normally follows.”  
  
“My son marrying makes it a high profile wedding, as you know, so we’ve chosen not to involve anyone else in the wedding party.”  
  
“Most parents choose people who are closest to the couple,” Graves says. “Even in these arranged marriages. I suppose friends and family didn’t make the cut.”  
  
“For their safety as well, such prominent roles,” Mary Lou says, and she never has patience for Graves. He eagerly looks forward to the day he never has to hear her perpetual disappointment again. “Chastity would have been my first choice, of course, but she’s too young.”  
  
Too close to Credence, Graves wants to say, but Credence is staring at him warningly, and Graves doesn’t want Mary Lou to take it out on him later. He smiles instead.  
  
“She is,” he agrees. “Good of you to think of everyone’s safety. Safety is always my concern at large venues and I’m sure you know a heavy Auror presence is a necessity.”  
  
“Of course,” Silas says. “I have no doubt you began planning their presence there when you learned of the venue.”  
  
“I did,” Graves says. “And I have no doubt you’ll have the guest list in my hands tonight so we can plan accordingly.”  
  
“Naturally,” Silas says because he is not a stupid man. “Though Miss Barebone and I have only invited people we trust, of course.”  
  
Graves smiles. “I don’t trust any large gathering of people when alcohol is involved, so it’s best to prepare,” he says. “What’s expected out of Mister Barebone and I when we’ve completed our duties and the night ends?”  
  
“My son should be registered with your household in the days before the wedding to avoid any accidents,” Mary Lou says. “He’ll be going home with you that evening. His belongings will be kept safe at the wedding for him to take to his new home.”  
  
Graves smiles and tries not to imagine cursing Credence’s mother for referring to him like he’s a fucking pet Kneazle Graves is purchasing.  
  
Credence is staring down at his empty plate, always aware of how his mother looks at him and Graves knows it’s a source of shame for him whenever she so casually says things like this to other people. Graves wishes he was next to him so he could touch his hand but he’ll have to wait.  
  
“That certainly makes sense,” is what he says, and when Credence looks at him, Graves can see how tired he is. “I don’t suppose you’ve planned a getaway for after the wedding.”  
  
“You have your own money and schedule to clear for that,” Silas says with a chuckle. “Married life will be yours to navigate.”  
  
Graves remembers again that the blood magic will be complete once their duties for that day are finished and they’ll both have freedom, even if it’s not freedom either of them would have chosen. Graves smiles faintly at Credence and Credence smiles back, just a little, because he knows it too.  
  
Miss Sterling and Miss Willow serve dinner then and it would be a good meal but Graves doesn’t think he could ever have an appetite in the manor again. The very walls are filled with poison and bad memories as far as he’s concerned, but he does eat for Credence’s sake.  
  
There’s not much to be said over dinner, as there has never been, and Graves is glad for it when they finish. After Miss Sterling and Miss Willows clear plates and refill water glasses, Miss Sterling brings in another silver tray with numerous pieces of paper on it and offers it to Silas, who takes them.  
  
He hands most of them to Graves and one to Credence.  
  
Graves ignores the schedule for now, glancing at the guest list instead, two long rows on three separate pieces of paper. He skims the names and sees some that he’ll have his Aurors keep a firm eye on for the entire evening, but he’ll go through it with more care in the morning.  
  
He looks at the schedule next, their various duties scattered between the ceremony, speeches, dinner, dancing and dessert. Wizarding weddings are long affairs, but most are joyful and not something people usually complain about. Graves dislikes attending weddings in general and always leaves early, but Pureblood weddings are particularly painful because of these tightly followed schedules, and this one especially so because he can’t escape it.  
  
There is a note to ensure they are inside of Graves’ home before the clock strikes midnight, and Graves thinks it means to inspire fear, which it doesn’t, but he wouldn’t put it past them to have the wedding the day before they’d drop dead if they didn’t marry.  
  
But he knows that’s highly unlikely because of how it would look to modern society, these particular types of arranged marriages, and would ruin Silas and Mary Lou far more swiftly than Graves will be able to.  
  
They couldn’t be thrown in prison for it, but they’d be shunned nonetheless, even if they’ve separated the days Graves and Credence would potentially die to make it seem unrelated to the public.  
  
It’s merely a fear tactic, and Graves has no patience for them, but he can see Credence hasn’t put that together yet because he’s more grey than white when he looks at Graves.  
  
He smiles and means for it to be reassuring, and Credence takes it that way because some fear leaves him. He looks like he’s still going to vomit, but Graves will reassure him more once this dinner is finished.  
  
“Everything looks to be traditionally traditional,” Graves says with some dryness as he sets the papers aside. “Beyond the lack of speeches from Credence and I.”  
  
“My son lacks the ability to address large crowds,” Mary Lou says with a tight smile. “Though I know you excel at them yourself, Director Graves.”  
  
“I am used to being honest and blunt giving them,” Graves says. “Can’t have that, I suppose.”  
  
Silas and Mary Lou chuckle. They’ve won, as far as they’re concerned, and it makes Graves’ skin crawl to hear it, but there are ways they’ll lose after this that they might have thought of but perhaps think Graves and Credence won’t have the balls to do.  
  
But oh, they do, and one day vengeance will be sweet, but they need to be patient for that.  
  
“Is there anything else we should know?” Credence asks, still so polite, as he looks at his mother, then Silas.  
  
“Tuxedo fittings,” Silas says with a smile. “You’ll both be dressed by my tailor. He’s kindly arranged for the appointment two Sundays from now. Materials have already been decided upon but he’ll need measurements.”  
  
“Anita is going to be extremely disappointed,” Graves says with a sigh. “Most important day of our lives and my own tailor isn’t involved.”  
  
“I’m sure she’ll continue dressing you for formal occasions,” Silas says. “Perhaps your first anniversary.”  
  
This seems to tickle Silas and Mary Lou, and Graves shares a look of pity with Credence, who bites his lip after, hiding that smile of his.  
  
“Is that all for this evening?” Graves asks his father.  
  
“For this evening, yes,” Silas says with an oily smile. “Won’t you be staying for dessert?”  
  
“Early morning, unfortunately,” Graves says. “Mister Barebone shares those with me, I’ve learned, but we are so short on time. If you don’t mind, Miss Barebone, I’d like to discuss the schedule with Credence, now that we have it.”  
  
“Tonight?” Mary Lou asks softly. “Surely it can wait until Wednesday?”  
  
“It can’t,” Graves says. “As he’s directly involved with safety concerns and plans that I will be putting into motion early tomorrow.”  
  
Mary Lou stares at him, as she so loves to do, and Graves stares back. “What time shall I expect him home?”  
  
Graves glances at his watch. “Eleven,” he says and looks at Credence. “What’s another night of little sleep?”  
  
Credence smiles, still faintly exasperated. “Just another night,” he says and looks at his mother. “Director Graves will see me safely home, Ma.”  
  
“As he always does,” Mary Lou says. “Do be sure to memorize your schedules as quickly as possible.”  
  
“Don’t worry, Miss Barebone,” Graves says with a smile, “I remember everything.” He stands, papers in hand, and walks to the end of the table to wait for Credence to join him. When he does, they leave the dining room and walk down the lowly lit hall toward the foyer. “Can you believe that man hid his whiskey from me?”  
  
“Oh, don’t tell me that,” Credence sighs. “That means I have to agree with your father on something.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “A terrible thing when that happens,” he says. “Alcohol makes these dinners more bearable, you know.”  
  
“One glass of whiskey doesn’t even faze you, so that’s not true,” Credence says. “I don’t want to know how much you drink at home.”  
  
“About the same as I drink every Friday night with Fontaine,” Graves says and smirks when Credence looks at him with disapproval. “I’m joking. I drink one glass of whiskey and you can thank my sister for that.”  
  
Credence smiles and steps outside when the door swings open for them. “I will when I meet her. Which I’m getting closer to being ready for,” he mutters as they walk down the steps. “I know you want me to.”  
  
“I do, and I’m afraid we can’t wait anymore for that,” Graves says. “I’m inviting them to meet us for lunch this Wednesday.”  
  
Credence looks at him, surprised and already nervous. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me first?”  
  
“I’ve been asking you for three weeks,” Graves says. “And you’re never going to say yes, so I am taking the initiative. I told you, Credence, they’re in your corner. You need more than your sisters and me in your corner.”  
  
Credence is quiet as they cross the courtyard and beyond the gates, the magical protections fading behind them. “Alright,” he sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, which is why it’s always a mess.  
  
A mess Graves is growing increasingly fond of but he keeps that to himself.  
  
“It’ll go much better than you’re thinking,” Graves says with a smile. “It will go so much better because it’s going to be normal with sane people. A breath of fresh air, if you will.”  
  
Credence huffs a laugh and smiles. “If you say so,” he says. “Are we really going to discuss these schedules?” He looks down at his with a grimace.  
  
“Some things on it, yes,” Graves says. “We can save the rest for later. I actually wanted to show you something, so put that away. I’d say lose it but we don’t have the luxury to quite yet.”  
  
Credence smiles and folds the schedule, sticking it in his pocket. “Where are you taking me tonight, Director Graves?”  
  
“You’ll see,” Graves says and smiles when Credence eyes him, but he takes Graves’ arm when he offers it all the same. “Big jump.”  
  
He Disapparates before Credence can think about it too much and keeps a hold of him when he sways because he’s still not used to large jumps. Graves pats his back until Credence nods and looks around.  
  
“Oh,” Credence says softly and smiles. The wide and genuine smile Graves is lucky he’s been able to see. “It’s been a long time since I was here.”  
  
Ilvermorny is visible, numerous towers jutting above the pine trees surrounding it, but they’re slightly off the grounds near the river that runs through the forest not far down the peak. Students aren’t allowed down here without strict permission and escorts a few times a year, though that never stopped Graves.  
  
“Less than a year for me, but this will hopefully be more pleasant than that particular visit,” Graves sighs and smiles when Credence looks at him, amused. “Come on.”  
  
He leads Credence down past a rocky bend in the cliff and when they step beyond it, the river widens, the pine trees more separated here, but the water is calm and gently babbling.  
  
It glows with the light of the first of the season’s fireflies, hundreds of them, their light reflected off of the water as they buzz and bob above it, and Credence gasps.  
  
“Oh,” he breathes and grins. “I knew they were on the river, but it’s always after term ends and before the new year starts. I never got to see them.”  
  
Graves smiles. “It’s a nice sight,” he says and doesn’t particularly mind that Credence is holding his arm, though he doesn’t think Credence realizes he is. “I had a meeting with Headmistress Aurora years ago that ran just past dusk. She walked with me down here because she knew when my sister visited me some weekends we had lunch here. And that I came down when I wasn’t supposed to otherwise,” he adds dryly. “Thought I was smarter than her back then.”  
  
Credence laughs. “You probably came down here to study and do homework anyway,” he says and sighs when Graves nods. “Of course you did.”  
  
“EAGLE year was awful. Couldn’t get any peace and quiet for studying when everyone else was, fifths and sevenths. Not even on the grounds. Found a way down and got more done than I would have in the castle.”  
  
“Only you would break the rules to find a way to study _more,”_ Credence says with a smile. “It is peaceful here, though.”  
  
“It very much is,” Graves says and pulls out his wand, twirling it until he conjures a thick blanket. He tosses it on the ground, over the soft grass alongside the riverbank, and sits down with Credence. “I don’t know about you, Credence, but I’ve been finding myself in need of reminders that there are things better than evil people in this world. And smog.”  
  
“Smog is the worst,” Credence agrees lightly. “It’s nice to see. I only have time for seeing nice things when I’m with you.”  
  
“Please go and see nice things whenever you’d like once you’re out of that fucking brownstone,” Graves says and leans back on his hands as he watches the fireflies. “You’re owed thirty years of nice things from this very world.”  
  
Credence doesn’t say anything to that and is quiet long enough that Graves fears he’s only reminded him of what he doesn’t want him to think about here and glances at him.  
  
But Credence doesn’t look upset. He’s smiling still, very softly, watching the fireflies and his eyes are bright.  
  
“That’s one of them, you know,” Credence says. “A nice thing. Maybe the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”  
  
Graves’ stomach loops and he’s sure he hasn’t felt that sensation in fifteen years, but he tries to ignore it. It is an unfortunate reminder to him anyway of what Credence has experienced, which tends to make him angrier each time he sees Mary Lou because she’s the one at fault for it.  
  
He smiles because that’s not what he wants Credence to think about. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen the synchronous firefly season in Pennsylvania either then,” he says, and Credence shakes his head, still smiling. “That’s next month. Pretty incredible. We’ll go to that one too. If you’d like to.”  
  
“I would,” Credence says and looks at the river. “I’d love to. You’re right that this is a good reminder that there are better things in the world. I try to remember that when I go to Central Park but after so many years of it, I think it’s lost its touch.”  
  
“Just dulled for now. It’ll come back soon enough,” Graves says. “If you want to go places, Credence, outside of New York or America, let me know, and I’ll arrange it for you.”  
  
“Even Cabo?”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Even Cabo,” he says and smiles when Credence grins. “Hopefully with more than an Auror or two as your company.”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “You mean you wouldn’t be joining me?”  
  
“We might be married, but you’re not sentenced to my company.”  
  
Credence stares at Graves for a while, frowning. “Percy,” he says slowly, “I think it’s safe to say we like each other well enough to be friends by now. More than just allies in this shitshow, as you call it every time I see you.”  
  
“You made it clear you didn’t like me calling it a nightmare,” Graves says and frowns when Credence flicks his arm. “Yes, Credence, we’re friends.”  
  
“Then what in Merlin’s name makes you think I wouldn’t want to go to Cabo with my friend?”  
  
“Because by the time we’re married you will hopefully have numerous friends, and I didn’t want to assume.”  
  
Credence rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to Cabo with your sister and her husband. Or Mister Fontaine and his wife,” he says dryly. “Of course I’d want to go with you.”  
  
Graves knows that living with Credence will not likely pose many difficulties after getting to know him the way he has, and he does consider Credence a friend, but vacationing in Cabo is not something he’d had on his mind.  
  
He thinks that’s entirely fair but he doesn’t say it.  
  
“But you could enjoy being the third wheel like I get to whenever I’m with them,” is what he says and smirks when Credence shakes his head exasperatedly. “Alright, Credence, fair enough. Maybe we will plan that getaway.”  
  
“We both deserve it,” Credence says. “After all of this is over. I think enjoying ourselves is the first step to showing them they haven’t actually won anything at all.”  
  
“I think you’re right,” Graves sighs and looks up at the starry night sky, as beautiful a sight as the fireflies. “The first step of many. You’re cold,” he adds.  
  
Credence is lightly shivering and he shrugs. “I didn’t know you were taking me to the top of a mountain tonight,” he says with some amusement. “Or I would have worn a coat.”  
  
“Some nicer quality clothes might help too,” Graves says darkly and shrugs out of his coat, grabbing the papers he tucked away in it and putting them in his pocket. He throws it over Credence’s shoulders. “Anita will be thrilled to give you a new wardrobe.”  
  
Credence scoffs. “What makes you think I’m going to your tailor and buying overpriced clothes?”  
  
“They are priced by her skill so I won’t tell her you said that,” Graves says and chuckles when Credence laughs. “What I like about Anita’s work is that it’s as practical as it is fashionable. She uses fine materials to work with the weather of the day. And she caters to my job, as well, makes sure my thickest winter coats still allow for quick movement, if necessary.”  
  
Credence smiles as he pulls Graves’ coat tighter around himself. “Maybe I’ll take a look then,” he says. “It’d be nice to not sweat through my clothes all day during the summer months when I’m brewing, I’ll admit. Thank you,” he adds, pulling the collar against his chin.  
  
Graves thinks Credence is a better sight than the fireflies over the river and the clear night sky combined. “You’re welcome,” he says. “No one who lives under my roof can dress in anything less anyway.”  
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums with amusement. “Has anyone ever actually lived with you?”  
  
“Not in this apartment,” Graves says with a chuckle. “Nor the last one.”  
  
“You got this one when you became Director, didn’t you?”  
  
“I did. I told you I’ve lacked the desire for a relationship, let alone marriage.”  
  
“Well, I know that, but I assumed before you became so busy you might have been in one or two.”  
  
“I have been,” Graves says dryly. “Mistakes because I got too busy when I was eighteen years old.”  
  
“That’s your choice, though,” Credence says. “You do thrive on working as much as possible. _Have_ you ever lived with anyone?”  
  
“I have. The last time I did was when I was twenty-six, the year it ended,” Graves says. “Barely managed to get through one year living together but we were together before that.”  
  
“You haven’t been in a relationship for eleven years?”  
  
Graves laughs. “I didn’t want one, I told you,” he says. “Not all of us have strong romantic aspirations. I am perfectly content with the social life I have now, including the occasional no strings attached night spent in someone else’s bed.”  
  
Credence wrinkles his nose. “You don’t bring them home for safety reasons?” he asks and hums when Graves points at him in affirmation. “It might surprise you that I can’t take anyone home for safety reasons as well.”  
  
Graves laughs again and shakes his head. “That’s not funny,” he says because Credence is grinning. “Merlin, please tell me you’ve experienced some intimacy in your life.”  
  
“Some,” Credence says and bites his lip. “Not what’s normal, I’m sure, and I was always terrified going home that my mother would take one look at me and know. It wasn’t entirely enjoyable when that was running through my head. It’s too frightening to imagine even trying to hide a relationship from her.”  
  
Graves grimaces. “I can only imagine,” he says. “Not even here?”  
  
Credence sighs gently. “Just a few months in seventh year. It was stupid, really, I shouldn’t have even tried. I left school and never spoke to him again. Ma burned his letters and they stopped coming eventually,” he says as he watches the fireflies. “I can’t even remember his voice.”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Graves sighs and rubs Credence’s back. “Freedom is within reach now.”  
  
“It is,” Credence agrees with a faint smile. “It’s funny that the thing I feared most in life is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”  
  
Graves smiles as he watches Credence. Credence says it while they’re still months away from it being official, but it’s heartwarming to know that Credence has decided to trust him. To believe what he says and promises.  
  
He thought it would take longer than this, but he has meant every word, and Credence is as good at picking out liars as he is, regardless of any training.  
  
“I’m glad you’re looking at it that way now, Credence.”  
  
“I know you mean what you say, Percy,” Credence says, and it’s quiet, too serious. “I’m glad it was you.”  
  
Graves isn’t entirely sure what to do with that and squeezes the nape of Credence’s neck. “I’m glad it was you too,” he says and moves his arm around Credence’s shoulders.  
  
Credence leans against Graves and he’s not full of tension. He’s relaxed, comfortable, and Graves is a lucky bastard that he is, but there’s a solemnity in the air, which Graves wanted to avoid.  
  
But he can only blame two people for that and smiles when Credence rests his head on his shoulder. He presses his cheek against his soft hair and looks at the river, at the fireflies, and vows for the millionth time that they will get their comeuppance for far more than this charade.  
  
Mary Lou will face a reckoning that she is too arrogant to think will find her for what she’s done to Credence his entire life, and Graves has moved past wanting the same for his father, but his father has done this to Credence too.  
  
It would only be fitting if they returned the favor of a living hell.  
  
Graves sighs and pushes those thoughts aside for now. It’s far more pleasant to think of Credence against him and think of the things he wants to give him, beyond the comfort of a safe home and seeing those nice things.  
  
He wants to give Credence everything, and that’s a thought that terrifies him, scares him shitless. It's a vulnerability, and Graves isn’t fond of that, but he thinks if Credence might ever have the same thought, it would be easy to share that vulnerability with him.  
  
Graves can only hope.  
  
——  
  
Going over their schedules and duties was the last thing they had wanted to do, but they did discuss a few things and Graves managed to get Credence to laugh at one or two of them on the schedule.  
  
Their movements are down to the minute in some places, such as pausing at a particular fountain to have a picture taken, or the thirty minutes they’ll spend at _the family table_ receiving gifts from the guests who are bestowed the honor to give them personally.  
  
Graves had mentioned the family table usually consists of a dozen or more people and how sad it would be to see their picture taken, eight of the most miserable people alive.  
  
It had made Credence laugh, so that was enough for Graves.  
  
There is one particular duty they didn’t discuss that Graves had said wasn’t worrisome at the moment because Credence didn’t understand what it meant. It used to be popular in Pureblood weddings, more of a gesture for the family than the couple, but had gone out of fashion when the world became more modern.  
  
It is worrisome and Graves stared at the paper for a long time before he’d been able to fall asleep.  
  
He stares at it throughout Monday and Tuesday, on and off through his workdays, and tries to figure out what the hell his part would even be, let alone helping Credence navigate his.  
  
But Credence needs to know because it’ll be highlighted in the papers the day after the wedding, such an old and uncommon tradition.  
  
Graves spends the morning with Fontaine down in the training rooms to burn off some of his anger and frustration, despite how tired he is, and they manage to not injure each other, but Graves has worked up enough of a sweat that it’ll take too long to get himself presentable again with his wand. He goes home to shower and get dressed and when he steps outside, he realizes that it’s a balmy day, summer swiftly approaching.  
  
He Disapparates to _Bottom’s Up_ and looks around the storage room, familiar to him now. He walks into the large brewing room and nods shortly to a few other brewers that work here. Credence always has more going on than any of them, but he is immensely skilled at timing his work to be done by eleven.  
  
Graves walks to him and Credence glances up and smiles before looking down at the potion he’s using a funnel to pour into vials marked and waiting for a store label.  
  
“Hello, Director Graves,” Credence says and waves his wand when he’s done, the vials stoppering themselves and the residue in the cauldron disappearing. “Early today.”  
  
“Maybe I was just excited to see you,” Graves says and rests his hand on Credence’s lower back. “Everything alright?”  
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums, his cheeks faintly pink. “It’s been alright,” he adds softly when Graves raises his eyebrows. “Nothing bad.”  
  
Graves nods. “Good,” he says because he’d been concerned when he took Credence home late on Sunday but had told Credence to write to him if anything unsavory happened and he hadn’t. “You ready?”  
  
“Oh,” Credence sighs. “No. But I’ll do it anyway.” He smiles when Graves chuckles. “You just took a shower.”  
  
“Fresh cologne?”  
  
“And your hair is still drying,” Credence says with some tartness. “Were you terrorizing Mister Fontaine again?”  
  
“One of my special talents,” Graves says with a smile. “Didn’t really have the time for it today but I made the mistake of looking at him this morning and needed to get the rage out of my system.”  
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head. “Why do I feel like it’s all a bunch of lies and when I meet him and his wife they’ll be the nicest people in the world?”  
  
“That’s naivety, Credence,” Graves says and dodges his elbow. “Come on, go clean yourself up and meet me in the front.”  
  
Credence sighs. “Fine,” he says but he’s smiling when Graves leaves.  
  
He walks into the shop and Mister Larkspur, the owner of _Bottom’s Up,_ nods at him from behind the counter. He’s had his jaw clenched lately and there’s been some anger in his eyes that Graves has noticed. Credence told him that Mister Larkspur has been more short with him lately too and Graves offered to speak with him and learned very quickly to never offer that again unless it’s a dire situation.  
  
But he doesn’t think any good will come out of it either way. It’s Credence’s choice and Graves understands why he doesn’t want to involve him, but it’s because of Graves’ parasitic father that this is all happening to begin with.  
  
He walks to the front of the store, where Night is still keeping an eye on things. They’d tested the waters by having him stay in the back with Credence one morning and a few people had crawled out of the bushes, according to Night’s colorful commentary, so he’s been staying.  
  
 _Like we’re fucking royalty,_ Credence had grumbled when Graves saw him later and tried not to delight in hearing Credence curse.  
  
Night is being paid double and hazard on top of it, so he’s never complained, but Graves tells him he’ll get him home as soon as he’s sure Credence will be safe on his own.  
  
Credence meets Graves near the door, the sweat washed off of his face and his hair cleaned. He smiles, broad and surprisingly cheerful, not nearly as nervous as Graves would have expected, and it makes his heart race but he ignores that.  
  
Has been ignoring it for a few weeks now.  
  
They Disapparate from the shop and appear in a lobby of a high rise building, mostly businesses of all sorts, but the top floor houses a restaurant that offers a three-sixty view of Manhattan. It’s fine dining with a dress code but Credence is always uncomfortably formal at work, so he’ll fit right in.  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Credence mumbles as they’re being led to their table.  
  
The restaurant has only just opened and not many people have been seated yet. They’re all staring, high society finally setting their eyes on _the couple of the year,_ apparently, but that’s not what Credence is worrying about, Graves realizes.  
  
He’s looking at the richness of it, at the small, expensive details, all to cater to the wealthy. It amazes Graves again that Mary Lou never dragged them to these places to try and bring back some relevance, especially while she has three Barebone children, two of whom aren’t even of age yet. Not quite extinct yet.  
  
They tend to look like the most unhappy people in the world when they’re all together though so she must not have wanted to risk it.  
  
“I know this isn’t the type of place I’d usually take you,” Graves says as they’re led to a table near the corner of the dining room, set away from the glare of the windows, but giving Graves the vantage point he always demands. “But we are afforded much more privacy in here than say, _Cove’s Cafe.”_  
  
“Oh, you just hate Dragon Street and everything on it,” Credence says and sits down after the host pulls his chair out for him. “Thank you,” he mutters when the man lays a menu in front of him, then Graves.  
  
Graves is sitting next to Credence while they await Eliza and Kylan and he smiles and orders a whiskey while Credence gets pomegranate juice.  
  
“It lost its charm over the last twenty years,” Graves says and looks over the menu.  
  
“Peas and carrots,” Credence declares, pointing at the menu item. “For seven Dragots.”  
  
“Fancy peas and carrots, Credence,” Graves says mildly. “You have to admit the dry-aged duck breast with apricot relish sounds good.”  
  
“I definitely do not because it doesn’t,” Credence says as he grimaces at the menu. “Liver with fig and rose. Oh, Merlin.”  
  
Graves laughs and looks at Credence. “You like fish. Kylan would probably share the whole red snapper with you.”  
  
“I like fried fish covered in coleslaw,” Credence says and shushes Graves when he laughs more. “What in the world is an asparagus salad?”  
  
“Here,” Graves says, still chuckling, and points at Credence’s menu. “Get the fazzoletti pasta with pesto. I promise you will like it. Even the shaved radish,” he sighs because Credence is pointing accusingly at the dish description. “You are not a man of fine tastes.”  
  
“Shaved radish is a fine taste?” Credence asks dryly. “I’m not a fan of eighteen Dragots.”  
  
Graves smiles and pats Credence’s thigh. “Good thing you’re not paying then,” he says and ignores Credence’s disapproving frown. “We are paying for privacy, darling, stop worrying about it.”  
  
Credence sighs and looks up at their waiter as he brings their drinks to thank him. He says he’ll be back when their guests have arrived and Credence looks at Graves.  
  
“Don’t call me that.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “Not a fan of darling?”  
  
“My grandmother called me _darling boy_ or _darling child_ all the time before she died when I was ten,” Credence says with distaste. “I knew she was calling me an idiot.”  
  
Graves frowns. “My apologies. Even Grandma was a peach, huh?” he says and sighs. “Mine used to stand in my doorway late at night when I was seven and tell me I was the only hope left for the Graves family. Fantastic nightmare fuel because I didn’t understand what the hell she meant until a handful of years later.”  
  
“Merlin,” Credence says and he’s biting his lip, trying not to laugh. “When did she die?”  
  
“When I was eight,” Graves says and smirks when Credence covers his mouth. “She is one of the reasons I still have nightmares to this day, I’m sure. But she died before she was seventy, so I don’t mind.”  
  
“Mine was barely fifty-five,” Credence says and smiles. “The evil festering inside, as you’d say.”  
  
“That’s exactly what it was,” Graves says. “So pet names are out.”  
  
“I didn’t say that,” Credence says. “But I don’t like baby either.”  
  
“Who called you baby?”  
  
“Fitz,” Credence says. “Only for a few days in the beginning before I realized I didn’t like it.”  
  
“I’m not a fan of it myself,” Graves says and rests his arm on the back of Credence’s chair. “In my experience, the best endearments come out when no one is thinking too hard about them and the one that sticks ends up being a comfort to hear.”  
  
Credence smiles. “I guess I’ve never had that experience before,” he says. “It does feel a little like window shopping.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Exactly,” he says and grabs his whiskey to take a drink. “All in due time, sweetheart.”  
  
Credence looks at Graves with that mischievous eye he’s had lately, another thing that gets his heart racing, but he doesn’t have much time to pretend he’s ignoring it as he catches sight of his sister and Kylan being led to their table.  
  
“The old lady has arrived,” he says and smiles as he watches Credence look up. His smile turns nervous and Graves squeezes his thigh before standing as Eliza and Kylan reach the table. “Credence, Kylan and Eliza Craft.”  
  
Credence holds his hand out to Eliza and she smiles, shaking it warmly.  
  
“Oh, Credence, it’s wonderful to finally meet you,” she says. “We’ve heard so much about you. From the only source that matters,” she adds with a smile in Graves’ direction when Credence grimaces more than smiles himself.  
  
“Nothing but good things,” Kylan says as he takes Credence’s proffered hand, shaking it firmly. “As someone who has married a Graves, I can promise you that once the wedding is done, it’s all uphill from there.”  
  
Credence is blushing. “Oh,” he says and looks overwhelmed. “That’s good to know. It’s very nice to meet you both. I’m sorry it took this long.”  
  
“You only had Percy and our father as a point of reference. I don’t blame you at all,” Eliza says with a smile as they sit down. “My husband and I are far more pleasant company.”  
  
“Don’t be mistaken, Credence, she is just as much of a Graves as I am,” Graves says dryly and points at Kylan when he nods in agreement.  
  
Eliza smiles. “Only when it matters,” she says and winks at Credence. “I’m sorry you have to experience this nightmare but you’re handling it so well.”  
  
“Credence and I prefer to call it _this shitshow.”_  
  
“Ah, your favorite word,” Eliza says with a bland smile. “To describe any slight inconvenience in your day.”  
  
“I think it’s pretty apt,” Credence says, still shy. “We are putting on a show led by people who are grasping at straws.”  
  
Kylan and Eliza laugh. “Your future father-in-law has been grasping at straws since I met him. Though this is a spectacle no one could have predicted. Bastard,” he mutters and shakes his head. “Join Percy and I when we piss on his grave.”  
  
“We’ve scheduled it between the burial and reception,” Graves says and smiles when Credence grins. He looks at his sister. “Here, you’ll get a kick out of this.” He grabs his folded schedule and hands it to her.  
  
Eliza opens it and her eyebrows slowly inch upward as she looks it over. “Merlin,” she says and lets Kylan see it too. “Oh, you poor things, thirteen minutes with the Arbutus family each.”  
  
“I already spent twice as long as that with them at the spring ball,” Credence says and shakes his head. “It was like watching a duel.”  
  
Graves laughs and Eliza smiles wryly. “Graves and Arbutus have gone back a long time,” he says. “They’ve bred like rabbits, however, so there were plenty of cousins to go around and keep producing. One of the most influential families on the east coast. It looks like a duel no matter who they’re speaking with.”  
  
“They lose in the most satisfying of ways when they go up against Sera,” Eliza says with a faint smirk. “She’ll bring you down to your knees with a few words. Have you not met Sera yet?” she asks when Credence cringes. “You have nothing to worry about. She’ll be bringing people down to their knees for you.”  
  
“Already is,” Graves says and smiles at Credence. “People have asked her if she’s met you yet because they know we’re close.”  
  
“Oh,” Credence sighs and looks overwhelmed again. “That’s horrible to know.”  
  
Graves chuckles and squeezes Credence’s shoulder. “That the President of MACUSA is on your side?”  
  
“That everyone’s talking about me,” Credence says and wrinkles his nose. “I went from a nobody - for thirty years, mind you - to someone the President talks about in a really short time.”  
  
“Bastard,” Kylan mutters again as he looks over the menu. He looks at Credence. “You’re handling it well, but are you doing alright?”  
  
Credence seems taken aback by the question. “Oh, umm…” he trails off and looks at the table. “Yes, I suppose I am.” He sounds surprised by it and looks between Kylan and Eliza, who are smiling at him. “Percy has helped me a lot over the last month and a half.”  
  
“As he should have been doing earlier than that,” Eliza says.  
  
“We have gotten over that,” Graves says tersely.  
  
“No, I agree with your sister,” Credence says and smiles. “But we have gotten over it. My mother would have felt differently about me being out until eleven before Percy put the fear of MACUSA into her.”  
  
“He’s told us how fond your mother is of him,” Kylan says. “As long as she _does_ realize he has the entirety of MACUSA at his back.”  
  
Credence nods. “She does,” he says. “I didn’t think she could fear anything. Not that she fears Percy.”  
  
“I can see her imagining all sorts of colorful deaths for me when we meet,” Graves says with a sigh. “Charming woman, but she is smart enough.”  
  
Eliza hums. “You can come to any of us, Credence, if your mother forgets herself.”  
  
Credence’s cheeks are pink and he nods. “Thank you,” he says. “It’s a delicate situation with my sisters but Percy says he would take care of it if it gets out of hand. I don’t think she’ll let that happen, though.”  
  
“Likely not, if she’s anything like our father and unfortunately she seems to be. All the same,” Eliza says with a grim smile. “But maybe we shouldn’t give them the satisfaction of speaking about them anymore.” Her smile is more genuine when Credence smiles back. “Where were you two at eleven at night?”  
  
“Percy took me to the river near Ilvermorny,” Credence says and Graves feels his stomach tighten, not in a pleasant way. “To go over the schedules and recover from family dinner. We never get to see the fireflies during the school year so he showed me them.”  
  
“Did he?” Eliza asks and looks in Graves’ direction but he avoids her eye and narrows his own at Kylan when he grins. “That was sweet of him. An incredible sight, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah,” Credence says with a smile. “It is. We’re going to go to Pennsylvania in a few weeks to watch the synchronous fireflies.”  
  
“The firefly festival,” Eliza says and laughs. “Oh, we haven’t gone ourselves in years. The ones on the river at Ilvermorny are beautiful but they don’t put on the show like the synchronous ones do. You’ll have a good time.”  
  
Credence nods. “I think so too. I only ever left Manhattan for Ilvermorny but Percy has been taking me all over the northeast coast.”  
  
“Manhattan’s big but it’s not the world,” Kylan says. “Maybe you’ll convince him to take a vacation. Would be the first one to be able to do it in a decade.”  
  
“I’ve almost got him convinced for Cabo after the wedding.”  
  
Eliza laughs and it’s not a laugh that bodes well for Graves. It’s a big sister laugh. “Oh, this is so wonderful to hear!” she says with a grin. “Why Cabo?”  
  
“It is the exact opposite of Manhattan in just about every way,” Kylan says and winks when Credence nods in cheerful agreement.  
  
Graves digs his fingers into his eyes for a while and sighs when Credence begins to tell them about one of the boys he shared a dormitory with having gone to Cabo with his family over a summer. He watches him, his shoulders loosened a little and smiles when he laughs, as charming as he always is when he starts to relax.  
  
He makes the mistake of looking at Eliza, who glances at him with a mischievous eye and grin of her own.  
  
Graves will hear about this later but when Credence looks at him with that broad smile of his and his hand touches Graves’ thigh, he finds it difficult to care all that much.  
  
Credence has chosen to trust him, to trust that this isn’t a nightmare despite how much it will change their lives, to trust him with his sisters’ safety, and to trust him with Credence’s own well-being.  
  
To give him the honor of his friendship, even, and it still terrifies Graves when he looks at Credence and thinks about more than that. He’d never dream of pursuing it after all Credence has gone through and is still being subjected to courtesy of Silas and Mary Lou.  
  
But when he touches Credence’s hand on his thigh and Credence grips his like it’s the most natural thing in the world, still holding a conversation with Eliza and Kylan, Graves feels hope.  
  
And that’s dangerous.  
  
They’ve known each other for such a short time, and the wedding is still over two months away. They have many hurdles before then and living together to navigate after.  
  
Graves doesn’t think they’re going to come out of this completely unscathed and in love because that’s not the way the world works. If they come out of this without Credence despising him one day, Graves thinks it’ll be a miracle.  
  
But right now Credence’s hand is warm and he’s smiling, forgetting that he was so worried about meeting Eliza. Maybe he’s starting to truly believe people are on his side. Graves thinks about Mondays and Fridays, days he sometimes has the lunch hour free and using them to get Credence familiar with Eliza and her husband, with Fontaine and Eldora and Sera, maybe even Queenie, who was helping more than Graves in the beginning. And Queenie usually means Tina, who he is still too fond of.  
  
They’ll all be at the wedding and if Credence can see them as friends, as allies and as people who care about him, it will help him get through it more than Graves would.  
  
Showing Credence that there is more than the brownstone and being stuck in a brewing room for hours six days a week is a priority of Graves’.  
  
Getting Modesty and Chastity to safety and letting Credence show them the same thing is another.  
  
But Graves still doesn’t trust that Credence won’t resent him when this is all said and done. He drinks his whiskey and smiles when Credence looks at him because Graves’ concerns aren’t for him to worry about.  
  
He merely holds Credence’s hand in his and enjoys today for what it’s supposed to be and hopes it doesn’t all come crashing down around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post this tomorrow but eh, have a Christmas part 3! Merry Christmas to those that celebrate, happy holidays, and a very good weekend to those that don't. :)
> 
> Hope you like it. I'd love to hear from you!


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the workweek speeds by like it always does.  
  
Graves is busy planning a fucking raid, of course, one that will be put into motion by the end of next week, so he spends most of his time out on the floor. It keeps him from thinking about everything else, which is excellent and terrible, really, because he still hasn't told Credence about the particular duty they will both need to be ready for by the wedding.  
  
He needs to talk to him about it on Sunday so they can prepare together and Graves can try to ease the anxiety it will no doubt cause Credence.  
  
Everything had gone well over lunch with Eliza and Kylan. A lot of laughs and Graves learned some things about Credence he didn’t know yet. His apparent artistic talent, which he’s been hiding from Graves because his ears went red when he admitted he likes to sketch and paint and which Graves plans on asking all about on Sunday.  
  
But Credence had been at ease and in a good mood and his eyes were bright after Eliza hugged him for what seemed like a painful amount of time to Graves but just the right amount for Credence.  
  
Mister Larkspur hadn’t looked happy when Graves had taken him to _Bottom’s Up,_ an hour later than he was supposed to be back, but Mister Larkspur knows precisely what Credence is going through.  
  
Graves feels like he’s been stuck inside since then, hardly any time for breakfast or lunch and it is one of those weeks he goes home late, has dinner with a tall glass of whiskey and goes straight to bed.  
  
He does try to leave work on Saturdays by four but that won’t be happening this week. Merely a part of the job and Graves spends time on the floor with Barrows and his team for most of the day before he locks himself in his office to try and catch up on reading and signing off on reports.  
  
It’s going on six-thirty and Graves is thinking about sending an order for dinner because he expects to be here until Jauncey gets in and he can discuss her team’s role in the raid.  
  
There’s a knock on his office door and Graves twirls his hand until it unlocks and opens. He’s squinting down at a report that Tina had written about an encounter with a wizard who was using his wand near a no-maj that she had to fine heavily. He’d apparently been trying to multiply no-maj money and fucked it up because quarters were pouring out of his pocket until Tina set him straight and Obliviated the no-maj.  
  
It was toeing the line of an arrest but Tina’s succinct explanation of why she chose not to works for him.  
  
Graves glances up when two people walk into his office and feels his stomach loop, as it seems to be doing just about every time he sees Credence, and he raises his eyebrows.  
  
Security had been informed weeks ago that if Credence Barebone came here he was to be escorted to Graves’ office immediately and Graves feels a sense of dread because Credence looks upset.  
  
“Thank you, Heath,” Graves says to front door security and Heath nods shortly, leaving the office and Graves lets his door close behind him and stands. He moves to Credence and grips his shoulders. “What happened?”  
  
Credence is angry too and he frowns, his eyes wet. “I got fired,” he says and his lip wobbles but he doesn’t cry. “Mister Larkspur said he was losing too much business because of me and the presence of Mister Night.”  
  
Graves stares at Credence and feels many different things. “Did he just tell you?” he asks. Credence nods and he’s angry about that too, as is Graves. “Couldn’t have the weekend supply take a fucking hit by doing it this morning, could he?”  
  
He leads Credence to the chair across from his own and Credence sits heavily down. Graves leans on his desk and frowns.  
  
“Credence, I know you don’t want me to step in, but we both know it’s absolute bullshit that you cost him business. Mister Night tells me customers come in to try and get a glimpse of you and buy things to not seem suspicious every day.”  
  
“I know,” Credence mutters. “I almost told him to not bullshit me and say what he meant but… but I didn’t want to make him angry. I don’t even want to go back, so don’t worry about it.” He sniffs. “Ma’s going to kill me, Percy.”  
  
“She certainly is not,” Graves says firmly. “You are too valuable at the moment.” He smiles when Credence shoots him an unimpressed scowl. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist you let me speak to her tonight.”  
  
Credence looks like he may argue but he sighs and his shoulders slump further. “Okay,” he says. “That might be for the best. But she’s still going to… after you leave. She takes half of my pay so she’s going to be losing that.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Graves asks. “She’s got a cushy life being funded by my father. Why is she taking any of your pay?”  
  
“Still have to earn my place in the house, Percy,” Credence says tiredly. “It’s not been worth an argument but she started it the day I started working after Ilvermorny. For food and clothes and anything else I need. She likes to say I’m providing for my sisters but the chance of her keeping any of it for them is slim.”  
  
Graves shakes his head for a while. How he wishes he could kick down Mary Lou’s door and make her feel a little bit of the pain she’s made Credence feel. Made his sisters feel. It would be satisfying to see the same fear in her eyes that she puts in Credence’s, but Credence doesn’t want that.  
  
And it’s not like he could have demanded a change after they were told about the betrothal and Graves wouldn’t ask Credence to even now, but that doesn’t mean he can’t demand it himself.  
  
“Why didn’t Night bring you in?”  
  
“I didn’t tell him,” Credence says, his cheeks pink. “I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already have by having an Auror escort me through MACUSA. There’s still a lot of people downstairs.”  
  
Graves sighs but he supposes he can’t entirely blame Credence for that. Still, if Credence had gone anywhere else while he was upset… it makes him feel ill, so he pushes that out of his mind because Credence is too smart for that anyway.  
  
“Alright,” he sighs. “I’m sorry, Credence.”  
  
“It was a shitty job anyway,” Credence mumbles. “I’d be glad to never see that brewing room again.”  
  
Graves watches Credence wipe his nose and smiles faintly. “Me too,” he says and chuckles when Credence smiles. “Are you going to look for something else?”  
  
Credence bites his lip and doesn’t answer immediately. He looks up at Graves. “I was thinking about applying here for experimental brewing,” he says hesitantly. “You’ve had it on my mind since we met. But I think your father and my mother wouldn’t be happy about it.”  
  
“It’s a good thing we like seeing them unhappy,” Graves says. “We’ll tell your mother tonight before she can corner you about it later. Did she expect to keep half of your pay after the wedding?”  
  
“Yes. She told me to think of my sisters when we talked about it,” Credence says bitterly. “I don’t want her to hurt them.”  
  
“She won’t,” Graves says. “And she won’t be receiving any more of your pay at all starting tonight.”  
  
“Percy, please, if you start changing things like that before I leave home, you know how she’ll be.”  
  
Graves shakes his head. “She won’t,” he says and smiles faintly when Credence frowns. “She won’t. Not after I speak with her. Trust me on this one.” He squeezes Credence’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright.”  
  
Credence peers up at him for a while before he nods, a little miserably. “Okay. I do trust you, Percy,” he says and rubs his hands over his face for a while. “I don’t know if I’ll even be a good candidate for a position in experimental brewing. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything but average potions for work and that letter of recommendation is nearly fourteen years old.”  
  
“It’ll get you a working interview,” Graves says. “And you prove to them you’re perfectly capable of the advanced potions they’ll ask you to make.”  
  
“Without your influence, right?”  
  
“Yes, Credence,” Graves says dryly. “I am plenty confident enough in you that you can do this on your own. And before you ask, being my fiancé doesn’t mean jack shit when it comes to such delicate potions and saving lives. Scientists and chemists, really, and they won’t give a shit about your personal life as long as it doesn’t interfere. And they’re government buildings the general public isn’t allowed in so your personal life won’t interfere like it does at _Bottom’s Up.”_  
  
Credence chews on his lip for a while before he nods. “Alright,” he says. “That’s good.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks up at Graves. “I never thought I’d ever get fired.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “It might feel like shit tonight but Mister Larkspur may read your name in the paper one day when it comes to experimental potions. He’ll be happy to know he helped you advance far beyond his shop.”  
  
Credence huffs and smiles wryly. “Just maybe,” he says with amusement. “I’m glad you were still here. I don’t know where you live still.”  
  
“Barrows would’ve gotten a message to me for you,” Graves says and smiles. “But I should show you around the apartment. It seems like a gross oversight, actually, to not have in the last few weeks. I want you to come to me no matter the hour if something happens,” he clarifies when Credence frowns. “Anything at all.”  
  
“Alright,” Credence says and smiles. “Thank you, Percy. Tomorrow?”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Graves says. “Tonight. Your mother will know better but that doesn’t mean she’s not a human that could make a dire mistake. You’ll be alright, that’s my paranoia speaking.”  
  
“Sure it is,” Credence mutters but he’s still smiling. “Alright. Just for a little while, she might contact your father if I don’t show up in the next hour or two.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “We’ll take a quick look,” he says. “You can pick out your bedroom.”  
  
Credence giggles, his knuckles against his mouth. “That sounds awful,” he says and grins when Graves laughs. “Can we go now?”  
  
“Yes,” Graves says and pats Credence’s shoulder. “Let me tell Barrows I’m going to be out for an hour or so.”  
  
“You’re coming back tonight?!”  
  
Graves laughs as he walks to the door. “Unfortunately we are in the middle of something big and I need to talk to my night shift, so yes,” he says. “I am used to this, Credence. Better get used to it too.” He winks as Credence gapes at him before opening the door and stepping out onto the floor.  
  
He tells Barrows he’ll be back soon and walks back into the office, closing and locking the door.  
  
“We’re flooing home,” Graves says with a smile as he gestures at his fireplace. “It’s perfectly safe, Credence.”  
  
Credence looks uncertain. “I know MACUSA can close off access to fireplaces, but you’re not ever worried?”  
  
“You would be surprised how much goes into keeping me alive,” Graves says with a smirk. “No one but me is ever coming and going through this fireplace. And the occasional guest,” he adds as he grabs a handful of floo powder and watches the fireplace expand to size. He steps in and offers Credence his arm.  
  
Credence smiles and stands, taking Graves’ arm and stepping into the hearth. Graves says _home_ and the green flames take them there. It’s not such a long way, only a second or two of spinning, and the apartment is before them.  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Credence mutters as he dusts off his shoulders and steps out with Graves, his eyebrows raised. “This is a massive apartment, isn’t it?”  
  
“It’s big enough,” Graves laughs. “This is the only living area. I did tell you we won’t be on top of each other, though.”  
  
Credence wanders to the floor to ceiling windows that look out over Manhattan and Central Park. “Oh, that’s pretty,” he sighs. He looks at the living room then, the sofas and rug and numerous bookshelves and smiles. “It’s not as stuffy as I thought it’d be.”  
  
“Is that how you see me? Stuffy?” Graves asks and pulls his suit jacket off as he walks into the kitchen and rests it over a stool at the breakfast bar.  
  
“Just a lot,” Credence says and grins when Graves looks at him. “The kitchen is huge too!”  
  
“I don’t know about huge,” Graves says and laughs. “Large enough. Down that way are the spare bedrooms, the guest bathroom and my office, which only opens for me.” He points to the hallway on his left. “And that’s my bedroom. Bathroom is inside it so you’ve got this whole end nearly to yourself.”  
  
Credence smiles, still gazing around. “It really is beautiful, you know,” he says and looks at Graves. “Which bedroom would you recommend?”  
  
“They all have the same layout and are about the same size. My office is between them and the bathroom,” Graves says and walks down the right hall with Credence. “The one on the end, however, has an extra window.”  
  
Graves watches Credence open each door and look around the bathroom and bedrooms with a smile. He doesn’t look disappointed by their size, just guest bedrooms in an apartment, and Graves wonders what his own bedroom looks like in the brownstone.  
  
“Oh,” Credence sighs when he opens the last one. “This is a nice view.”  
  
Graves leans in the doorway as he watches Credence move to the windows facing Central Park and the one looking out over Uptown. The city lights are bright and the moonlight is more radiant, nearly a full moon. Credence touches the bed and looks at the wardrobe and empty bookshelf with a smile.  
  
“I like this one,” he says and looks at Graves. “It’s different seeing the city like this. No oak tree and quiet street, but I think I like it more anyway.”  
  
“It’ll be different all around but I hope you’ll like all of it and that it’ll feel like home soon,” Graves says with a faint smile. “I don’t trust what your mother plans to do with your belongings, you know. Keeping them safe at the wedding. I thought I could help you move whatever you want in here in the days before it so Miss Barebone doesn’t leave anything behind. And you can bring anything important over in the meantime.”  
  
Credence looks at Graves for a while before he smiles softly. “What a shame it is that we both know how they work so well,” he says quietly. “That’s a good idea. She won’t be expecting it and she’d definitely try to throw things important to me out. Thanks, Percy.”  
  
“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” Graves chuckles. “Happy to do it.”  
  
Credence smiles more and looks away, out of the windows again. He rubs his arm and he doesn’t look uncomfortable, but he has a lot on his mind. More than he should, but they’re getting closer to this being finished.  
  
He walks to the doorway and Graves means to let him pass but Credence hugs him instead. It’s a tight hug and Credence’s nose is cold against his neck, but Graves doesn’t mind that. It makes his heart thunder all the same, but he hugs Credence and rubs his back and closes his eyes when Credence rests his head on his shoulder.  
  
Graves is still frightened that this isn’t something that’s going to last. He thinks the day that Credence walks in here and knows the home he’s lived in his entire life is gone, that this is where he’ll be living now, will be with a very different mood.  
  
He squeezes the nape of Credence’s neck and can only hope for the best. Prepare for the worst.  
  
“Come here whenever you need to,” Graves says quietly. “Come on, let’s go face down the harridan.”  
  
Credence laughs and pulls away. “I’m not sure I entirely trust I won’t face her anger later,” he mutters. “But I’m used to it.”  
  
“You won’t,” Graves says. “Not for tonight.” He touches Credence’s cheek before walking down the hall with him and pulling his suit jacket back on.  
  
He’s not entirely sure he trusts himself here with Credence, not tonight, not while his heart is beating as hard as it is.  
  
Credence is watching him, Graves sees when he looks at him, but he’s smiling in such a tender sort of way that it helps absolutely not at all. Graves merely smiles back and leads Credence out of the apartment.  
  
When they’re in the alleyway outside, Credence takes his arm, and he Disapparates to an unfortunately familiar wizarding street. They walk down the sidewalk to the Barebone home and Graves follows Credence inside. When the door clicks closed behind them, Mary Lou appears like some sort of evil shade at the top of the staircase.  
  
“Oh, Credence,” she says. “I was beginning to get worried. You’ve over an hour late home. Has something happened, Director Graves?”  
  
Graves doesn’t answer her and looks at Credence instead.  
  
“Something I needed to talk to Director Graves about. We want to talk about it with you, Ma,” Credence says. “May we sit down, please?”  
  
Mary Lou nods graciously and walks down the stairs, poised and powerful, just the way Silas moves. Graves idly wonders who they take lessons from but he’s always reminded that Mary Lou is not a tall woman and finds it harder to take her seriously each time he sees her. She wants to be on top of the world but she is such an insignificant part of it.  
  
Modesty and Chastity are in the living room and they look momentarily happy to see Credence and Graves, but Mary Lou says _upstairs_ and they hurry away. It’s always a painful sight but one Graves is used to seeing by now.  
  
When he’s here, he usually sits on the stiff loveseat but he takes the sofa with Credence and Mary Lou stares at him the way she loves to do when she thinks Graves needs a reminder of how much she hates him.  
  
“Ma,” Credence says and sighs, looking down at his knees. He grips his slacks tightly, nervous and afraid, something he still carries when he’s near his mother. “I’m afraid that Mister Larkspur was concerned that our engagement and the attention it’s causing is making his business suffer. He let me go tonight.”  
  
Mary Lou’s eyebrows raise, just slightly. “He let you go?” she repeats. “You’ve told me that the shop has been busier than it’s ever been.”  
  
“It has,” Credence says. “I think Mister Larkspur was tired of being asked about me and tired of having an Auror in the shop.”  
  
“Mister Night’s presence there was certainly extended beyond what you originally believed, Director Graves.”  
  
Graves smiles. “You can thank the general public for not easing up for that, Miss Barebone. Your son’s continued safety is always my number one priority.”  
  
“Of course,” Mary Lou says stiffly. There’s anger burning in her eyes that she can’t or doesn’t bother hiding. “What shall we do? Will you find work again?”  
  
“Of course, Ma,” Credence says and looks at his mother. “Something that pays better and that I find more interesting.”  
  
“And what would that be?” Mary Lou asks while clearly knowing the answer.  
  
“Director Graves is right that my talent could be used elsewhere and for better things, like saving lives,” Credence says and he’s gaining some confidence. “I’m going to apply for experimental brewing through MACUSA on Monday.”  
  
“But it’s been so very long since you did advanced potion brewing,” Mary Lou says with a soft smile. “Are you certain that you’d be up for it this soon?”  
  
Credence nods. “I brew every day, so I’ve never lost the skill or know-how,” he says. “My letter of recommendation will help me too.”  
  
“That was written such a long time ago.”  
  
“Still holds plenty of water,” Graves says with a smile. “Should get him a working interview where he’ll prove exactly how talented he is with whatever potions they throw at him.”  
  
Mary Lou smiles shortly. “I assume you’ll be giving your own letter of recommendation, Director Graves?”  
  
“No,” Graves says. “Mister Barebone is perfectly capable of getting the job on his own and no one there would care for his fiancé’s recommendation letter. They do a very serious job there. And, of course, as I’m sure you’re aware, when MACUSA hires for these higher security clearance jobs in experimental or rare potion making, they often interview the family.”  
  
“The family,” Mary Lou repeats with interest. “They’ll speak with me?”  
  
“Yes,” Graves says and touches Credence’s thigh when he stiffens. “They’ll already have interviewed him and he’ll be told not to tell you how it went. They’ll ask many questions about his life, his mental health and general well-being, his interests. They’ll ask me as well, the only thing they’ll care for my thoughts on,” he adds with a chuckle. “I’ve gotten to know Mister Barebone fairly well, should be a breeze for you and I. If there are any discrepancies between the interviews, large enough to cause concern, they have the right to ask MACUSA to open an investigation. Interviews with the family can root up criminal activity, which is sometimes the point of them. Thought I’d mention it, but you know Mister Barebone better than I do, so I’m sure our interviews will be very similar. He is a brilliant, kind and trustworthy man after all.”  
  
Mary Lou stares at him for a long while and Graves stares back with a smile.  
  
“Of course,” she finally says and doesn’t look happy in the slightest. “They won’t speak to Modesty and Chastity, surely?”  
  
“Not likely, as they’re minors and you would need to be with them so the point is moot,” Graves says. “They’ll get exactly what they need out of Mister Barebone and me. And you, ma’am, of course.”  
  
Mary Lou sits up straighter, adjusting a slight wrinkle in her dress over her knee. “And this is what you want, Credence?”  
  
“Yes,” Credence says. “Very much so. Work that potentially saves lives is always what I’ve wanted to do, but I know why it wasn’t a good idea when I was younger.”  
  
Graves smiles at Credence and looks at Mary Lou. “From my understanding, Mister Barebone has been helping to build a future fund of sorts for Modesty and Chastity?” he asks. “Very kind of him to do so. It’s merely been a transfer from his vault to yours, hasn’t it? Gringotts would recommend opening a vault in Mister Barebone’s name for Modesty and Chastity at whatever ages would be appropriate for him to allow them access to it. Since he is the one solely providing for the family.”  
  
Mary Lou looks down at her knees and seems to be trying to keep herself composed. “It seemed so much easier when Chastity was so young and before Modesty was born,” she says with a tight smile. “Simply an old habit we never changed.”  
  
“Ah,” Graves says. “We’re all familiar with old habits that never change, aren’t we?” He pats Credence’s thigh. “But it’s safer this way. Will you be adding what you’ve been keeping for them to the vault?”  
  
Mary Lou smiles and it’s a smile that promises Silas will hear about this. It nearly makes Graves laugh because there’s shit they can do about it. They’ve bound themselves to the blood magic as much as they have Credence and Graves. It’s time they started feeling the downsides to that.  
  
“I’ll keep it for my daughters in my own vault,” she says. “Chastity will receive a large sum when she marries.”  
  
“Got that wedding in the works too?” Graves asks with a smile.  
  
“Perhaps.”  
  
Graves nods. “Thought so,” he says. “You do very much look out for your children, ma’am. I have to applaud you for a wonderful job of it. I do believe that’s all in order… well, I suppose I forgot to mention that your interview will be unannounced and take place in your home. Mister Barebone will be able to tell you when it should likely occur so you’re not completely unprepared for it. You can help him by keeping him in good spirits until his interview as well. They do only hire well-adjusted, content people after all. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, of course, you’ve been very careful to ensure his happiness and well-being through our own engagement.”  
  
Credence’s hand touches his and Graves is reasonably sure he’s telling him that’s about enough and Graves doesn’t quite agree yet.  
  
“My son’s happiness and safety have always been my main concern through this,” Mary Lou says quietly.  
  
“They’ve become mine as well and I apologize again that I didn’t take this matter as seriously in the beginning as I should have. Mister Barebone’s happiness, safety and well-being are on my mind every day,” Graves says as he looks at Credence. “I’m glad he trusts me enough now to come to me when something unfortunate like this happens. He knows how to reach me at all hours if anything else were to go wrong. Can’t foresee anything like that happening,” he adds and looks at Mary Lou. “But I always plan ahead.”  
  
Mary Lou’s jaw is clenched tightly and her next smile is ugly and forced. “Of course. One would expect you to, Director Graves,” she says. “I am so relieved to hear that you care for Credence so much. That should make your wedding much more pleasant and the schedules easier to follow.”  
  
“Time passes quickly when you’re having fun,” Graves says with a wink. “I’m glad we’re on the same page then. Mister Barebone has had a rough night tonight. Can you believe that man had him work an entire day before firing him?”  
  
“How rude of him,” Mary Lou says. “To think of only his business and not my son’s extraordinary circumstances.”  
  
“Just what I was thinking,” Graves says. “Extraordinary circumstances, that’s a fantastic way of putting it. Extraordinary circumstances for an extraordinary man.”  
  
“Director Graves,” Credence says with a glance in his direction. “We’re already engaged. You don’t need to flatter me.”  
  
“I apologize, Mister Barebone, but I will be flattering you for the rest of our long lives,” Graves says with a smile. “I should get back to work. You let me know if you need any support.”  
  
Credence nods. “I will,” he says. “Thank you for your support tonight. I suppose I’ll see you at eleven here tomorrow.”  
  
Mary Lou raises her eyebrows. “You don’t want a day home after tonight, Credence?”  
  
“We already have plans, Ma,” Credence says. “I’m meeting some of Director Graves’ associates tomorrow that will be at the wedding. We might have put it off but Director Graves is insistent we get as much done as possible before the wedding. Including meeting important people.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “He’s always worried,” he says with a smile. “And yet ends up being the most charming one in the room. One of those people you remember after just one conversation.”  
  
He stands and holds his hand out. Credence takes it and stands at his side and Graves winks. “No hesitation if you need help.”  
  
“No hesitation,” Credence says, cheeks pink. “But I’ll be fine. Go worry about criminals instead.”  
  
“Always do,” Graves says and smiles at Mary Lou. “Thank you for your time, ma’am. Unfortunately, work still calls. Good night.”  
  
Mary Lou nods shortly and Credence walks Graves out.  
  
“She’s gonna murder me,” Credence hisses when he closes the door behind himself. “How do you know any of that is going to work?”  
  
“Trust me on this one, love,” Graves says and kisses Credence’s cheek, dodging his swatting afterward. “I know it because I meant every fucking word and all of it is true. She won’t dare touch a hair on your head, Credence, and I’ll see you at eleven.”  
  
“And what if she does?”  
  
“I’ll see you before eleven. But she won’t.”  
  
Credence sighs and looks a little queasy. “Alright,” he mutters. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
“Always,” Graves says. “Take care of yourself. Good night.”  
  
“Good night,” Credence sighs and smiles when Graves squeezes his hand.  
  
Graves walks down the steps and down the sidewalk, Disapparating back to MACUSA and back to planning a raid.  
  
He knows Mary Lou won’t dare to hurt Credence tonight. She’s smart enough to confirm what he’s told her with Silas before she would and Credence is used to her spitting venom, which Mary Lou may do, though Graves doubts it, but he’ll survive that better than any physical punishment she might dole out.  
  
She knows precisely what Graves will do to her if she dares and she still cares more about wealth and status too much to want to ruin it. She’ll be thinking about holding out until the wedding is over just the same as they are.  
  
She might be thinking of turning on her daughters immediately after and trusting they wouldn’t speak of it to Credence and they might not, but Graves won’t let her have the chance to harm them either. He’s already got things in motion as far as Chastity and Modesty’s safety goes and Credence doesn’t know quite yet, but he will tell him soon enough.  
  
Now that Credence trusts him, Graves thinks he’ll trust him on this matter too.  
  
Kylan was right, Graves thinks idly as he walks into MACUSA and strides to the stairs.  
  
Marrying a Graves, at least these days, only goes uphill after the wedding.  
  
——  
  
Graves doesn’t hear from Credence throughout the night and trusts that he’s alright by the time he’s at work at seven. He gets a few hours in, Fontaine joining him for them out on the floor.  
  
Raids don’t happen on a large scale except for a few times a year and this one isn’t huge, but they’d started hearing rumors about wand materials being stolen and readied for shipment to New York months ago. They’ve been listening ever since and the shipments start coming in on Wednesday and will be prepared for sale on Thursday. They know this from reliable informants and they know this from one of theirs working inside and Graves is eager to bring her home in just a few days.  
  
Wand materials - wood, cores and wandmaking tools - run high because some are so rare and much of it was stolen from across Europe from various suppliers and wandmakers themselves.  
  
It’s not huge, no, only one place to hit with not many people involved. But what they’re smuggling is worth an incredible amount of Dragots and is a tremendous loss as well because, while it’s evidence they’d be willing to reallocate, wandmakers won’t take any possibly tainted materials.  
  
Graves isn’t going to have much time to think after Tuesday evening, but he’s eager to see Credence today, eager for Fontaine and Eldora to meet him.  
  
He doesn’t think he’ll have time to meet Credence for lunch on Wednesday and it pisses him off because he wants to and because he has to. They still have their own parts of planning for all of this and little time left to do it.  
  
They leave the floor to Barrows and Graves and Fontaine leave MACUSA. He Disapparates to meet Eldora at the restaurant they’ve chosen and Graves Disapparates to the brownstone.  
  
Credence is outside already, sitting on the stoop with a book opened on his lap and he looks up at Graves with a smile.  
  
Graves can see he’s not hurt and Credence doesn’t hide it well when his mother has been particularly vicious, but he looks fine. “Good morning,” he says. “Did she kick you out?”  
  
“No,” Credence says with a small laugh. “She’s got Chastity and Modesty cleaning the house today and I didn’t want to be in their way. And I want you to stay away from my mother for a few days,” he adds in a mutter as he stands and walks down the steps. “If she cared less about what you said I think she would’ve flogged me in the street.”  
  
“Don’t fucking say that,” Graves says with a grimace. “I’m feeling very eye for an eye here and that’d look bad.” He smiles when Credence rolls his eyes. “You’re alright? Your sisters?”  
  
“I am,” Credence says and tucks his book away. “They’re alright. Ma has always liked making us clean the house top to bottom without any magical help. I would’ve done some of it for them but I shouldn’t push her right now.”  
  
“I’d say to push her all you fucking want,” Graves says. “But you’re right. She’d probably crack before the wedding.”  
  
Credence hums in agreement and peers at Graves. “Did you even sleep last night?”  
  
“I got three hours of sleep, yes,” Graves says and smiles. “I can run on days of no sleep, so stop frowning at me. It’ll be in the newspapers on Friday morning but it starts for us mid-week. Won’t have room to breathe, but either way, if you need me, come to MACUSA or the apartment.”  
  
“I’ll be okay,” Credence chides. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. Well, not exactly,” he adds with a sigh. “But I know how to take care of myself. I’m just eager to meet Mister Fontaine and Eldora.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “They are eagerly waiting to meet you,” he says and offers his arm.  
  
Credence takes it and Graves Disapparates to a familiar restaurant. It’s wizard-owned in Lower Manhattan, disguised as an abandoned business, boarded up windows and doors. When Graves steps through one of the doors, Credence steps through with him.  
  
The restaurant opens up to them, bright and cheery, with numerous people already seated at cherry wood tables in chairs with bright red leather cushions on them. It’s not quiet, not even at eleven in the morning, and it smells like rich Italian food.  
  
A bar is on the right side of the restaurant, manned by a witch, the daughter of the couple who owns the place.  
  
Graves likes it here as much as he likes fine dining but Credence does seem quite a bit happier than he was a few days ago.  
  
“I didn’t even know this was here,” he says. “Everyone is going to stare at us.”  
  
“Don’t worry about that,” Graves says. “We aren’t talking work or the wedding today. We are going to have a good time with good Italian food and not worry about anything for a couple hours.”  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Credence says cheekily, his hand in Graves’ as they walk across the restaurant to the table Fontaine and Eldora are seated at.  
  
It’s in the corner with a view of everyone else but it’s not private here and today that is for numerous reasons. Most of them are good because Graves expects a mention in the papers, which will keep the wedding popular, something Mary Lou and Silas will certainly enjoy.  
  
They’ll enjoy it less because Graves is sure _happy couple_ or _happy pair_ is going to show up somewhere. It’s best if they are reminded as often as the public is that they’re in this together and facing it head-on, rather than digging their heels in anymore.  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Credence mumbles when they get closer to the table and Fontaine and Eldora stand up.  
  
Fontaine is half a head taller than Credence and about twice as broad, weight-lifting something that his entire damn family does. He’s only a few months younger than Graves but his bristly mustache is almost all grey and his light brown hair is going that way as well.  
  
Eldora is two heads shorter than Credence with wild, frizzy black hair that hangs in curls over her shoulders, her features unmistakably Italian, dark eyes and a wide, sweet grin.  
  
Credence takes her hand when she offers it.  
  
“There he is, there he is,” Eldora says. “Oh, sweetie, we’ve been _dying_ to meet you. Those grainy pictures don’t do you any justice, do they? Be still my heart.”  
  
Credence is bright red as he shakes her hand. “Oh. Thank you. Pictures?” he asks feebly. “I thought there was only one.”  
  
“These people, they hide in the bushes,” Eldora says and shakes her head in disapproval. “You don’t see them. But it’s good you’re not readin’ the papers. I’m sure Percy told you not to. Come on, come sit next to me.”  
  
“Can I shake his hand?” Fontaine asks. “Can I shake his fucking hand first?” He offers his hand to Credence and Credence takes it, looking more intimidated by him than anyone else. “You have only had two pictures in the paper or Percy would’ve told you,” he adds dryly. “It’s good to meet you, lad.”  
  
“You as well,” Credence says politely. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long.” He sits next to Eldora and Graves sits across from him.  
  
“Such an adjustment, dear, we don’t blame you for that,” Eldora says with a wave of her hand. “Theo comes home every Friday night and tells me what’s happening. It’s good you boys joined sides, but I know Percy makes it difficult.”  
  
Graves shakes his head dismissively when Credence grimaces at him. “Whenever I tell Fontaine how thoroughly I’ve fucked something up, I know I’m telling Missus Fontaine that as well,” he says. “Feel free to air your grievances.”  
  
Credence huffs a little and smiles. “I don’t have any anymore,” he says. “I’m over it. I’m sure you’ll find new ways to fuck up in the meantime.”  
  
Eldora laughs. “He’s Mister Perfect in everything but relationships,” she says. “I was in my seventh year when the brute across the table tried to ask for my hand in marriage. Sixteen years old, he was. So in my exhaustive efforts to get him to leave me the hell alone, I got to know this one. Crashed and burned so often he gave up on it altogether.”  
  
“And yet an engagement found me anyway, didn’t it,” Graves says and smirks at Credence. “I’d say I’m doing alright so far.”  
  
“You were a fucking mess in March and April,” Fontaine says and looks at Credence. “Should’ve seen him crying into his whiskey. I do believe I can safely say I told you so.”  
  
“You do relish in being able to,” Graves says with a sigh.  
  
“I told you so?” Credence asks with a smile and doesn’t look like he’s sure if he actually wants to know or not.  
  
“That you, Credence, sweetie, were in just as bad of a position as Percy,” Eldora says. “And that he should do somethin’ to help you both.”  
  
Credence’s cheeks are still red. “Oh,” he says. “Well, nothing can stop what’s happening on August 21st. But Percy has managed to help us both. It doesn’t feel so hopeless anymore. Not crying into whiskey hopeless anyway.”  
  
Eldora laughs. “The smile on him lately,” she says with a teasing smile. “He has us believin’ a couple of people are going to regret this one day.”  
  
“My mother already is, I think, whenever she looks at Percy or has to hear him speak,” Credence says with some amusement. “They’re not happy with us working together but they’ll like us even less after the wedding.”  
  
“We will gladly tell you why on a later date,” Graves chuckles when Eldora raises her eyebrows. “Credence and I are trying to find the time to not talk about this shitshow for a couple hours here and there.”  
  
“Then we won’t say another word,” Eldora says with a wink. “We’d much rather get to know you, Credence, sweetie. Percy says you’re a brilliant potions master.”  
  
Graves smiles when Credence blushes again and shrugs helplessly.  
  
“I got fired from my potions job yesterday,” Credence says.  
  
“You’re shitting me,” Fontaine says and looks at Graves. “You had all fucking morning to tell me that.”  
  
“Saved it for that look on your face,” Graves says and smiles at Eldora. “Had nothing to do with brewing potions.”  
  
Credence shakes his head, biting his lip. “No,” he says. “My boss was an asshole anyway. I brewed three times as much as everyone else and worked ten hour days six days a week. He handed me an opportunity by firing me.”  
  
“Oh?” Eldora asks. “Tell us all about it, honey.”  
  
Graves watches Credence as he explains what happened in between ordering drinks and lunch. Fontaine and Eldora curse Mister Larkspur thoroughly enough to make him laugh. They encourage him just as thoroughly for his plan to apply to MACUSA for one of the experimental offshoots.  
  
Eldora is loud and boisterous and wildly inappropriate sometimes, but she’ll save that last one for later, Graves is sure. She has a way of getting everyone around her to relax and laugh, as showy as she is, and she listens to and remembers everything people say. It helps when she brings up those things later on for people to trust her and appreciate her more.  
  
She uses that power for good and evil, Graves tells her often enough, but she’s genuine with Credence, the way he knew they both would be.  
  
They’ve wanted to meet him because Graves trusts Credence. Because he enjoys spending time with him and because he likes him. Because he wants Credence to have better things in his life in a place where he might actually be happy.  
  
It’s more than that and Graves has a hard time finding the energy to tell himself he’s ignoring it.  
  
The people closest to him know it and though they aren’t explicitly telling Credence, they’ll feel closer to him too because of it.  
  
Graves tries not to think about the terrible way it will inevitably end and helps Credence navigate his way through lunch with two people entirely different from Eliza and Kylan. Not that he really needs to, he thinks, as he watches Credence laugh with Eldora about a deli in Lower Manhattan that they’ve both apparently frequented for most of their lives.  
  
He’s shy and overwhelmed when praised, but that’s everywhere. He does tend to counter everything Fontaine says about Graves’ failures, one of his favorite pastimes, with ways he’s made up for it or done better. The look Eldora gives Graves each time it happens doesn’t bode well for him later, but he has a hard time caring about that.  
  
And it is very amusing when Credence reminds Fontaine of how many times he’s been hit with curses and ended up in the infirmary lately, something he has apparently been neglecting to tell Eldora.  
  
She laughs at him as much as Graves does.  
  
Credence smiles and he keeps smiling throughout the rest of lunch, whether he’s talking or simply listening, and it’s a wonderful break from worrying about life and the shit it has handed them. Graves watches him, the way he drinks in their stories and the way he laughs, the way he looks around the restaurant with a boyish sort of joy and enjoys lunch, like it’s the best thing he’s ever eaten.  
  
He’s missed out on so much while being so close to them all, while being in the middle of a city that offers endless experiences, and it makes Graves’ heart ache, makes him unbelievably angry, but being able to watch him experience these things is an honor Graves is thankful he’s been given.  
  
Credence never had to give him more than what he needed to make this work in their favor but he’s given part of himself to Graves and Graves is sure he doesn’t deserve it, but he wakes up every morning thinking about how fucking lucky he is for it.  
  
It’s getting more difficult to look at Credence as only a friend but the next two months promise to be so busy that Graves can only hope he doesn’t have the time to.  
  
They spend nearly three hours talking about anything and everything before Fontaine says he should get back to MACUSA. He shakes Credence’s hand and pats him roughly on the back and tells him if he needs help, he knows where to find it.  
  
Eldora gives him a long hug, as long as Eliza had, and Credence seems to enjoy it just as much.  
  
Graves doubts he’s been hugged by anyone with his best interests in mind beyond his sisters for at least thirteen years and it’s such an unsettling thought that he shoves it away before he can get angrier.  
  
He would go back to work, he really should, but they need to talk more before he’s too busy for it during the week. They leave the restaurant and go to the apartment, the place they’ll have the most privacy. After Graves has gotten them both glasses of water and sits on the sofa next to Credence, he tries to not think about how good Credence looks here.  
  
They have their schedules in hand and Graves tries even harder not to think about Credence moving closer, until they’re thigh to thigh.  
  
“The family honoring,” he says as he rubs his hand over his eyes. “One of our duties that may or may not have been promised by blood. I’ve been meaning to discuss it with you.”  
  
“I thought you said we didn’t need to worry about it,” Credence says with a sigh.  
  
“I only meant that night,” Graves chuckles. “We do need to worry about it now. It’s just a bullshit way of honoring the family your fiancé comes from. So I’ll be expected to find or craft a gift, something that represents the Barebone family in my mind. Something flattering and powerful and something that shows I’ve taken the time out to learn about your family and its history. And you’ll be expected to do the same for my family.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Credence croaks. “There are barely any Graveses or Barebones left. My mother would never tell me about the rest of my family, let alone you.”  
  
Graves smiles. “Which means I am solely honoring her,” he says blandly. “And you are solely honoring my father. This usually happens before the ceremony but they have made the grave mistake to have it after. In the old days, when this was popular, sometimes the union would be called off if the gift was insulting. Which means they likely broke the magic by destroying whatever carried the couples’ blood. But they want us married already if we decided to give them both toads, I imagine, which I’d very much like to do, but it’s going to be a public thing.”  
  
Credence looks a little green around the gills. “But what about Eliza? Shouldn’t I take her into account too? What if I just honored her?”  
  
“And I’d like to keep only your sisters in mind but if it’s a duty bound by blood, we might as well do it the right way,” Graves sighs. “I doubt it is but I’m bringing you home the moment the schedule is met. Don’t worry, I’ll help you. You can help me too.”  
  
“You do have a low opinion of my mother,” Credence says and he’s smiling. “I don’t even know what she likes beyond what people think of her and respect from my sisters and me.”  
  
“She really is a soulless husk, isn’t she,” Graves mutters as he looks over the schedule and fends off Credence’s elbow digging into his. “My father appreciates whiskey and making people feel abject terror, but it’s not about that. It’s about how he feels about his family, about the Graves name, about his ancestors. So you’ll stay away from anything that honors the Graves family members who chose to pursue Auror and various other MACUSA careers. It’ll be something that symbolizes strength of character and ambition, is how I’m feeling about it.”  
  
“But my mother really hasn’t told us anything meaningful about the Barebone family. I’ve tried to look and the last time we were… I don’t know, a populous family, was almost two hundred years ago. And it seems like the most they ever did was live on family money and nothing else at all. I don’t know anything about closer relatives except my grandmother who hid her cutting remarks behind sweetness.”  
  
“Your mother decided that was wasting time, I suppose,” Graves sighs and smiles when Credence looks at him with exasperation. “She can’t hear me.”  
  
“Trust me, she assumes this is how you talk about her,” Credence says. “And flogs me in my bedroom.”  
  
“That better not fucking be true.”  
  
Credence shrugs. “I’d rather we didn’t push her into it whether it is or not.”  
  
Graves peers at Credence, whose cheeks are faintly red. “Credence, how badly does she hurt you?”  
  
Credence sighs and looks at Graves. “Not enough to worry about,” he says. “She slaps me sometimes,” he adds when Graves only raises his eyebrows. “But not as much as she used to. I’m alright with it, it keeps it away from my sisters.”  
  
Graves watches Credence turn back to the schedules and isn’t entirely sure he believes him. His voice shook a little and there’s some sort of deception in what he says, but Credence is biting his lip hard enough to hurt and Graves thinks he wouldn’t appreciate it if he asked more questions.  
  
He might think it’s not any of Graves’ business or that he might go kill his mother, which he imagines as much as she imagines his own death, but she is the most vile woman he’s ever met.  
  
If she’s hurting Credence more than the occasional slap he may just black out in a rage and do something reckless before all of this shit is done. And even if he is waiting to pursue punishment for Mary Lou until after the wedding, he simply can’t before it. Can’t while their lives hang in the balance.  
  
“I am sorry she’s laid a hand on you at all,” Graves says and rubs Credence’s back. “Not much longer before you’re out of there.”  
  
“Yeah and I get to worry about my sisters after,” Credence says bitterly. “I can only try to convince Chastity to get out when she’s seventeen but my mother might have arranged her own marriage.”  
  
“If she’s arranged it by blood, which is highly unlikely, we can verify it,” Graves says. “And if her blood hasn’t been used, we can help her leave.”  
  
Credence sniffs. “Ma doesn’t hurt Modesty much because Modesty knows how to appeal to her better nature already,” he says. “But that’d leave her alone with her.”  
  
Graves sighs and sets the paper down on the coffee table. “They can be helped after the wedding, Credence. I can help them.”  
  
Credence looks at Graves warily. “Marry me and immediately have my sisters taken away from my mother?”  
  
“It can be done quietly,” Graves says. “And she won’t shout about it right after they’ve pulled this, Credence. It would ruin what respect she gains from the wedding.”  
  
“And what would they do, Percy? Go to a different family until Chastity is seventeen? What about Modesty? I don’t want her with strangers.”  
  
“Chastity will be sixteen years old when we marry,” Graves says. “She can appeal to Protective Services to become Modesty’s guardian until she’s seventeen herself, if that’s what you both might want. They would consider her an independent adult then and she would be free to do whatever she’d like. If she applies to MACUSA for work after Ilvermorny there’s childcare offered every day that Modesty can be a part of until she goes to school herself. But Modesty would have to stay with someone throughout Chastity’s last two years of school.”  
  
Credence stares at Graves for a while and his eyes are bright with tears. “And what if none of that happens? What if Protective Services doesn’t let it happen? And they tell Chastity she has to stay with Ma? It would become a lot worse.”  
  
“They’ll interview you and they’ll likely interview Chastity’s professors before making that sort of decision. Myself, as well, considering I’ll be your spouse,” Graves says. He’s not entirely sure if he should tell Credence more but he thinks it’ll only be worse in the long run if he doesn’t. “I already have a lot of this in the works. Statements written and a household recommendation for Modesty. Chastity as well, if it goes differently. But I won’t submit them to Protective Services until you tell me to.”  
  
“You…” Credence trails off and looks pale. He sighs and rubs his forehead, a droop to his shoulders that Graves hates seeing. “Were you even going to ask me if this is what I want for them?”  
  
“Credence, I know it is,” Graves says gently. “You’re terrified of leaving them alone with her. This can all be done within a few weeks of the wedding.”  
  
“And what household did you recommend for Modesty and Chastity in between her last two years? The Crafts or the Fontaines?” Credence asks. “I don’t know anybody, Percy, and I trust people about as much as you do.”  
  
Graves smiles faintly. “I know,” he says. “That’s why I’ve recommended our household.”  
  
Credence looks quickly at him. He looks briefly terrified and Graves isn’t entirely sure why but the fear melts away and more tears are in his eyes. He brushes them away but it doesn’t matter because he’s soon weeping.  
  
Graves thinks he might have fucked up here anyway and he isn’t going to backtrack on what he’s said, but he’s not sure what to say. But then Credence turns to him and leans closer and Graves is all too happy to wrap his arms around him.  
  
He rubs Credence’s back and sighs gently. “It’s alright, Credence,” he says. “It’ll be okay. For everyone involved.”  
  
Credence doesn’t say anything. He cries for a while and Graves suspects he needs to get it out and isn’t sure if he has since this all started. The thought of him crying alone, scared of what hell he might have been walking into with Graves, makes his entire chest hurt but Graves ignores it.  
  
“It’s alright, love,” Graves says when Credence’s tears slow.  
  
“But what if they still say no?” Credence croaks, gripping Graves’ jacket tightly in his hands. “What if they send them back?”  
  
“Our department works closely with Protective Services. Our recommendations are rarely dismissed. And it’s coming from me. They’ll never say no to me. If this is what you want, it’s what will happen.”  
  
Credence sniffs and shakes his head. “Can’t she appeal? What if she retaliates? Your father?”  
  
“I’d love to see them try,” Graves says. “They’re not going to run the risk of this becoming public. She’s relying on you not telling anyone about what happens in that house due to fear. I’d recommend not letting her rely on you for anything.”  
  
“Alright,” Credence says softly. “This is hard for me, Percy. I trust you, I do, but—”  
  
“They’re your sisters. I know, love. We’ve got two months to talk about it more. And we’ll have to because I need to know how they’ll feel about this,” Graves says and runs his fingers through Credence’s hair.  
  
“Yeah,” Credence sighs. “I have to think about it for a while. Thank you, though. Thank you for thinking of them too. How long have you been?”  
  
“About five minutes into meeting them,” Graves says darkly. “I recognized the look on their faces from my job and my life in general.”  
  
Credence huffs and pulls back a little, wiping his eyes and cheeks and nose. He mumbles a thank you when Graves gives him his handkerchief. “You saw it on them but not me,” he says. “I know,” he says hastily. “I’m better at hiding it.”  
  
“And I was being selfish,” Graves says. “But every day I know you’re all stuck in that fucking brownstone I worry and it’s going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”  
  
Credence chuckles and shakes his head. “I know a little something about that,” he says and smiles tiredly. “How did they not think of any of this?”  
  
“Well, I was seven years old and you were a few days old, from what I understand,” Graves says with a smile. “They didn’t expect to raise rebellious children. I’m sure some of what they did to us was in hopes that we were obedient by the time this came around.”  
  
“They’ve got to know they’re losing,” Credence says. “That this is a potential risk they’re taking.”  
  
“If they don’t have our blood anymore, it doesn’t matter,” Graves says with a smile. “They’ve backed themselves into a corner with only the hope that we mind the delicacy of it all. And we are minding that but in our own way.”  
  
Credence smiles and nods. “We are,” he says and wipes his nose again. “This makes me feel better. I won’t tell them about this until after the wedding, though.”  
  
“Very good idea,” Graves says and brushes the last bit of tears away from Credence’s cheeks. “You alright?”  
  
“Yes,” Credence says. “Better than I have been in a long time, I think.” He rests his hand on Graves’ thigh. “You’re a good man, Percy.”  
  
Graves smiles. “I’m glad you think so,” he says. “Not entirely sure I agree.”  
  
“You are,” Credence says and smiles. “Very much so.”  
  
Graves takes Credence’s hand and it’s hard to look away from Credence even while he’s wiping his nose clean. He’s beautiful no matter what, really, but there’s something about him now that stands out. Red-rimmed eyes and tears stuck to his eyelashes still. His lips are rosier than usual and he’s stunning, stunning when his heart is laid bare.  
  
Credence is looking at Graves and Graves doesn’t know what he sees in him. Doubts he’s thinking anything along the same lines, but Graves itches to kiss him either way.  
  
But he doesn’t want to ruin this. He so badly doesn’t want to ruin this but each day closer to their wedding feels more ominous to him and he doesn’t trust that. Hates the pit that sits in his stomach now, which widens all the more whenever he looks at Credence this way, whenever he thinks about more.  
  
“You up for trying to figure out these bullshit gifts?” Graves asks.  
  
Credence blinks a few times and looks at Graves’ shoulder, nodding. “Yeah,” he says and sounds a little breathless. “We should while we have the time today.”  
  
Graves squeezes Credence’s hand before letting it go so he can grab their schedules and hands Credence his. “Alright,” he sighs. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”  
  
——  
  
The next morning, as Graves stands out on the floor and listens to his Captains and their teams update him on where they are in the raid, he’s glad for the distraction.  
  
It’s easy to work, easy to plan, leaning over blueprints for the city and marking the routes they plan on taking for this. Everything down to the last minute detail so they avoid injuries and anything worse. If no one is injured, not even on their side, they’ve executed their jobs perfectly and perfection is what Graves strides for in his department.  
  
“Junie says things are all good on her end as of two hours ago,” Tina tells him. “Everyone is keeping quiet and not meeting for the next couple of days if they can help it. They’re sure they’ve gotten this one under our noses.”  
  
Graves nods shortly. “Good,” he says as he looks down at the blueprints, then up at Tina. “How’s she holding up?”  
  
“Says she’s bored out of her mind but this is a good opportunity for everyone to brag about other jobs lined up so she’ll have lots of information for us to look into by the weekend,” Tina says in the middle of a yawn. “Sorry, sir, it’s just that you’ve got us working fourteen-hour days.”  
  
There are chuckles on the floor and Graves smirks. “Just you wait for your first twenty-four-hour day,” he says and winks when that’s met with mutters of agreement.  
  
“Forty-eight-hour day,” Fontaine sighs and nods in wry agreement when that is met with groans.  
  
Tina grimaces. “Looking forward to it.”  
  
Graves glances at the doors when they open and Queenie walks in, smiling her dimpled smile, her hands behind her back. Tina groans this time and Graves waves at her to stay where she is because Queenie is looking at him.  
  
He walks to his office and gestures her inside before following her in. “Don’t tell me you’ve found a way out of this,” he says. “Just when I’m starting to look forward to it.”  
  
Queenie giggles. “Not so much, bossman,” she says. “Just thought I’d come and see how you’re holdin’ up. You’ve been so busy lately.”  
  
“I am always busy,” Graves says and leans against his desk as Queenie sits in the chair on his left. “How’s Abernathy treating you?”  
  
“Oh,” Queenie sighs. “He puts more work on my desk than anyone else and I run tea and coffee now all throughout the day, but it’s not so bad. He’s stopped belittling me anyway, ever since you sent that memo to him. Don’t think I want to know what you said.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Only to air his grievances with me rather than you as you were vital to an investigation,” he says with a smirk. “Could send him another one, if you want.”  
  
“Nah,” Queenie says with a wave of her hand. “I kinda like when he sends me out for baked goods or lunch for the office a few times a week. Gets me outta that musty office for a while.”  
  
“It is musty down there,” Graves says with a frown. “More than it should be. Should get maintenance on that.” He looks up when Tina knocks on the doorframe and sighs. “Come on in, Goldstein.”  
  
Tina smiles and walks across the office, taking the seat to his right. “What?” she asks when Graves eyes her. “Do you know how strange it is to know my sister’s in my department and I don’t know why? Sir,” she adds hastily. “‘Cause it’s strange.”  
  
“Just checkin’ on him is all,” Queenie says. “Since he never found a way out.”  
  
“Right,” Tina sighs. “Your wedding. You’re not still looking, are you?”  
  
“I am not,” Graves says. “Went as far as I could go in that matter. My fiancé and I are on the same side now anyway. We’d hate to miss out on making my father and his mother suffer for this.”  
  
“Ooo, what’ve you got planned?” Queenie asks. “Somethin’ terrible, I hope.”  
  
“Very terrible,” Graves agrees and smiles. “Planning more every day.”  
  
“You always are in such a good mood when you come back from lunch with him, sir,” Tina says and smiles. “Captain says he likes him.”  
  
“Is there a reason you’re asking Captain Fontaine about my personal business?” Graves asks dryly.  
  
“Curiosity, sir,” Tina says and grins when he shakes his finger at her. “We’re invited to the damn thing, it’d be nice to know a little bit about him beforehand.”  
  
Graves sighs. “Should’ve put you on security instead,” he says. “No lace this time.”  
  
“No lace,” Tina agrees.  
  
“You looked so good in that black lace though,” Queenie says. “We should do purple this time.”  
  
“Purple? Why purple?”  
  
“Summer flowers. Percy says it’s probably gonna look like a funeral anyway, should make some people angry.”  
  
“You think I want to be scolded by stuffy old Pureblood dames?”  
  
Graves sighs as he watches them before another two people show up at the door.  
  
His stomach loops and his heart leaps, things he’s getting tired of, but it’s not just joy today, but nerves as well.  
  
“Thank you, Heath,” Graves sighs and watches Heath go, leaving Credence to worry at his own damn sleeves the same way Tina does. “Come in, Mister Barebone.”  
  
“Oh my goodness,” Queenie says and stands. “Oh, honey, Percy didn’t say you were comin’ in today! Oh, what a doll you are.”  
  
Credence is blushing. “Thank you,” he croaks and shakes Queenie’s hand. “Miss Goldstein?”  
  
“Call me Queenie, honey. And this is Tina,” Queenie says when Tina holds her hand out. “We’ve been hearin’ about you for months, honey! We were hoping we’d get to meet you before the big day.”  
  
“Oh,” Credence says and glances at Graves. “Percy invited you, right?”  
  
“Course he did. Emotional support. Not from you, though,” Queenie says with a grin.  
  
Credence’s cheeks are still red. “It’s nice to meet you both,” he says with a faint smile. “Should I come back later?”  
  
“Don’t worry, we’re all slacking off,” Tina says with a smile. “It’s nice to meet you too.”  
  
Credence smiles and moves closer to Graves until he’s leaning on the desk next to him. “Thanks for helping us out,” he says to Queenie. “Percy told me you did a lot of work.”  
  
“Sorry I couldn’t find the answer,” Queenie says with an apologetic smile. “But that doesn’t sound like much of a concern anymore.”  
  
“Mostly the opposite,” Tina says. “My sister wants me to look like a violet at the wedding.”  
  
“Percy said it’ll look like a funeral,” Credence says. “You’ll stand out above the rest.”  
  
Graves and Queenie laugh. “Think Miss Goldstein wants to avoid that,” he says and smiles at Credence. “You put in your application?”  
  
Credence nods, his smile wide. “I did,” he says. “They talked to me for a while after. I thought it’d just be dropping it off but Missus Birch asked Mister Colten to take a look at my application.”  
  
“Ooh, you’re applying for work here, honey?”  
  
“To experimental and rare brewing,” Credence says. “I won’t be in the building if I get hired but it’ll be a lot better than where I was.”  
  
Graves smiles. “Yes, it will,” he says. “If you caught the eye of those two, you might as well start preparing for your interview.”  
  
Credence grimaces. “I haven’t had an interview in ten years,” he mutters. “I don’t think I’ll survive it.”  
  
Queenie laughs. “You’ve got Percy on your side, honey, and from what Tina would have me believe, he’s the hardest to interview with. He’ll give you pointers.”  
  
“Do you terrify potential Aurors straight out of Ilvermorny?” Credence asks with a grin.  
  
“Absolutely,” Tina says and coughs a little. “It’s a good thing, though, weeds out a lot of bad choices.”  
  
“My interviews are fairly stringent,” Graves says with a smirk. “Important when I hire someone who will hold peoples’ lives in their hands at some point.”  
  
“And that’s all before training,” Tina says dryly. “Weeds out the rest of them.”  
  
Credence laughs. “Watching juniors go through the training program is one of his favorite parts of his job, I think.”  
  
“He did redesign the whole program years ago,” Queenie says. “Probably feels pretty good to watch people pass it.”  
  
“Very,” Graves agrees with a chuckle. “Always rewarding.” He smiles and looks at Credence. “You want to get lunch while you’re here?”  
  
“I can’t,” Credence says and smiles. “I have plans already but thank you. I just wanted to let you know how it went downstairs.”  
  
“Plans, huh?” Graves asks. “Taking advantage of your freedom?”  
  
“Mhmm. Shopping with my sisters,” Credence says. “I got fired,” he tells Queenie and Tina. “So I have some time off.”  
  
Queenie gasps. “Oh, you didn’t!” she says and frowns. “‘Cause of all this?”  
  
“That’s what my former boss would have me believe,” Credence says with a smile. “But I just might get to do what I want instead because of it.”  
  
“Good luck,” Tina says. “They do incredible work with potions.”  
  
“Thank you,” Credence says. “It would be nice to be a part of that.” He bites his lip and looks at Graves. “I’ll see you next weekend?”  
  
“Anytime before it too, if you need to,” Graves reminds him. “You will. Sunday at eleven.”  
  
“Sunday at eleven,” Credence says with a cheeky smile. “It was nice meeting both of you.”  
  
“You too, honey,” Queenie says. “We should go to dinner sometime soon. You, me and Teenie.”  
  
Graves sighs. “That isn’t a terrifying thought at all,” he says and pats Credence’s back. “Guess I’m not invited.”  
  
“You’re a stick in the mud and I can tell Credence here isn’t,” Queenie says with a grin. “Even if he won’t be drinking with us.”  
  
Credence blushes. “I think Percy drinks enough for both of us,” he says and smiles when Graves tsks at him. “I’d really like that, thank you. I better go. Bye, Percy.”  
  
“Credence,” Graves says and smiles as he watches Credence get a couple more hugs. He’s still pink but he always looks so damn touched that anyone wants to give him a hug. It still pisses Graves off but he’s glad to see it either way.  
  
Tina walks out with Credence and Graves glances at Queenie, who is grinning widely at him.  
  
“What?” he asks flatly.  
  
“Oh, honey, you got it bad,” she says and holds up her hands when he glares. “Callin’ it like I see it. You two are cute together, ya know. He’s a sweetie. Running himself in all kinds of circles, though, poor guy.”  
  
“Try not to dig too deep,” Graves sighs. “You won’t like what you find and he won’t appreciate it. Make sure you tell him if you do go to dinner.”  
  
“Course, honey,” Queenie says. “But there were plenty of things to like today. Oh, what a doll. You better treat him as good as you have been so far when you’re married.”  
  
“Alright, out of my office,” Graves says and flutters his hand dismissively. “Get back downstairs and mind your business.”  
  
Queenie shrugs. “Wish I could sometimes,” she chirps. “Bye-bye, honey.”  
  
Graves sighs as he watches her leave and gets a glass of water before he forgets to drink anything but whiskey again. He walks back out onto the floor and into the thick of things and ignores Tina’s occasional smile because he truly does not want to know.  
  
——  
  
The raid goes as well as they planned for it. There are only a few scrapes and bruises but otherwise the stolen wand materials have been seized and the people who had a part of it were arrested.  
  
Graves spends his Friday and Saturday leading interrogations and extracting information that’ll help Europe arrest those on their end.  
  
June speeds by after that. He’s busier than usual and there’s less time to be had with Credence, but what time they do spend together they mostly talk about the wedding. About what gifts they may bestow upon Silas and Mary Lou. They talk about Modesty and Chastity as well and Credence is keeping it quiet but there’s a certain sort of nervous energy in him nevertheless.  
  
He’s more eager for this to be over with than he already was.  
  
Sometimes they have lunch with the Crafts and the Fontaines and Credence does go to dinner with Queenie and Tina midway through June. Graves will simply have to accept his fate if they become friends but he is incredibly relieved to see that Credence is getting along well with everyone.  
  
That he is making friends and that he is seeing people are on his side. It brings color to his skin and his eyes are brighter, the dark circles under them not so pronounced. He looks healthier and has more energy. His shoulders don’t droop as much and the exhaustion that plagues him seems lessened.  
  
He’s in the middle of interviews, of which there will be at least four spread out over the weeks, and Graves has done his part already. Mary Lou hasn’t been as caustic toward him or her daughters, taking Graves’ warning to heart as he knew she would, and her own interview will be done soon enough.  
  
Graves barely has any time for anything else but he still has to lead the charge for his own damn wedding when it comes to security. Fontaine offers to take it over completely but Graves is too paranoid for that and visits the botanical gardens numerous times throughout June, his schedule leading the way for their own schedule and plans.  
  
Nearly half of the day shift of all three teams will be here, including his Captains, though Fontaine, Barrows and Jauncey are technically his guests.  
  
He finds he can hardly move through MACUSA without being interrupted by someone who has been invited - department heads and other important people - and it wastes enough of his time that he only leaves his department when absolutely necessary.  
  
Graves can usually juggle numerous pressing matters at once but an unexpected arranged marriage and all that comes with it prove to be a little too much. He’s feeling frayed at the edges again and Credence sometimes says he regrets applying to MACUSA before the wedding because he’s suffering it too. He has far more free time with not working now, but the wedding takes up most of it because Graves can’t always help him.  
  
Trying to figure out something to give Silas and Mary Lou that isn’t entirely insulting isn’t something either of them enjoys devoting their time to but they have to.  
  
By the last week in June summer is officially here and though Graves can’t take any fucking time off, he takes half a Sunday off on the last weekend of the month. He’s only been able to meet with Credence on Sunday evenings for the last few weeks but he thinks they need the time together and he did promise Credence something not long ago.  
  
They meet for lunch and Graves listens to Credence tell him about how the week has gone and finds he’s nearly hanging on every word, some bits of normalcy, which they won’t entirely experience again until after the wedding.  
  
Credence is fairly adept at reading Graves these days and he talks about mundane things and touches Graves’ back occasionally when they’re in his apartment. The touch is one of the many reasons Graves feels like he might crack under the ridiculous amount of pressure he’s under.  
  
The touch that Credence is so free with now and the way he looks at Graves sometimes gets his heart racing. Every time Credence grins cheekily or laughs, Graves’ stomach does the swooping and looping thing he wishes it fucking wouldn’t, but he can’t think himself out of that sort of thing.  
  
Sometimes Credence seems like he has something to say to Graves and the look on his face makes Graves feel an incredible amount of hope and an even more incredible amount of dread, but Credence always seems to choose something else to say.  
  
“We should head out,” Graves says when the sun begins to set. “Wouldn’t want to miss anything.”  
  
Credence smiles and nods. “I’ve been looking forward to this for over a month,” he says. “Will it be busy?”  
  
“Somewhat,” Graves says. “But they tend to have sangria and ice cream and pie and various other things we can distract ourselves with.”  
  
“Sounds good to me,” Credence says with a laugh.  
  
They leave the apartment and New York altogether. It’s a bigger jump than they’ve taken so far, one that’s pushing the boundaries of Apparition, but Graves is good at pushing boundaries and they arrive safe and sound. Mostly, anyway, because Credence wobbles and needs to bend over for a while.  
  
Graves pats his back until he’s alright and leads him to the firefly festival held every year in Pennsylvania. It’s held in Tionesta Creek Valley in the Allegheny forest, a beautiful sight to behold, and is a wizarding event, thank Merlin. No-majs come to see the sights too but usually on Saturday before it’s closed off to the public - no-majs anyway.  
  
They walk through the forest toward lanterns bobbing through the air and step out onto a large grassy meadow filled with witches and wizards, some sitting on blankets with their families and others at stands to buy trinkets and different foods offered. The wide creek runs across the meadow and continues through the forest on either side and offers a spectacular view of thousands upon thousands of fireflies.  
  
The sun is lighting wisps of clouds orange and violet and will start setting in earnest soon. Graves and Credence find a wine stand and a dessert one after. Credence seems particularly excited about strawberry ice cream and Graves watches him with a smile as they find a place to sit, set a little away from the crowd.  
  
People look at them, they always will, whether they had met in a normal way or not because Graves always attracts attention. But most people have the good sense to not look more than once and Credence seems to be getting used to it anyway.  
  
Graves conjures a blanket and they sit down together. He works his way through a large slice of apple pie and can’t remember the last time he actually had pie. It’s good, one of the few desserts he can stomach, and Credence clearly enjoys the ice cream, though Graves fends off his attempts to make him try it.  
  
Credence likes the apple pie.  
  
The sunset is an incredible sight here, lighting the sky and the trees and the water on fire, blazing oranges and reds, and they watch it until the sun has disappeared behind the trees. It gets cooler then and Graves conjures another blanket for Credence and Credence spreads it out over them both. He takes Graves’ hand under it and Graves tries not to think about that. Difficult to do with how often it’s happening lately.  
  
When fireflies begin to brighten over the water, in a gradual but synchronous way, there are a lot of gasps and oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Graves smiles in amusement because Credence is one of them. He’s not entirely sure if he likes watching the fireflies or Credence more.  
  
It’s a unique and beautiful thing, thousands of fireflies bobbing through the air and their reflections over the water, but the soft smile Credence wears is more so to Graves.  
  
“Thank you for bringing me here,” Credence says quietly when stars are beginning to twinkle in the sky and the fireflies seem to brighten all the more. A small galaxy of their own. “Thank you for showing me the things you have.”  
  
“You’re welcome,” Graves says and looks out at the wide creek. “Thank you for reminding me there are things like this to see. I haven’t gone to most of the places we have in a long time.”  
  
“When was the last time you came here?”  
  
“Probably ten years ago. A little more, maybe,” Graves says and smiles. “I wonder if they appreciate us all gawking at their mating displays.”  
  
Credence snickers. “It is a mortifying thing if you imagine yourself in their place,” he says. “I had a hard time watching everyone try to impress each other and give gifts every Valentine’s Day in school.”  
  
Graves laughs. “A mortifying thing to do and witness,” he agrees. “I hated that time of the year.”  
  
“Me too,” Credence sighs. “I got a box of caramel-filled chocolate cauldrons at the end of my bed in sixth year. From a secret admirer.”  
  
“Oh? Who were they?”  
  
“I don’t know to this day,” Credence says blandly and grins when Graves laughs. “They asked me to meet them at the Great Hall and I didn’t go. I think someone might have been screwing with me but no one ever admitted to it.”  
  
“Then they likely weren’t,” Graves says. “You probably ruined someone’s Valentine’s Day.”  
  
“I did not,” Credence says. “I spent most of my time in the library and fending off assholes because I was too quiet for their liking. Only one person ever showed an actual interest in me and that was Fitz.”  
  
“Your three month, seventh year romance,” Graves says and smiles when Credence nods. “What was his mating display?”  
  
Credence laughs and knocks his elbow against Graves. “Cornering me in the library and taking about fifteen minutes to tell me I was handsome and he wanted to take me into the village one weekend. I thought he was screwing around too but he was so awkward about it I realized he wasn’t.”  
  
“You must have made for a good couple. Both awkward in the ways of romance.”  
  
“Alright, Mister Casanova.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I made romance a business transaction in school,” he says and smiles. “Got what I wanted but it was strictly business.”  
  
“Merlin, that sounds awful,” Credence says. “You’ve never been a romantic.”  
  
“Never really had the time for it. Or the desire to make the time for it,” Graves sighs. “But I was a romantic when I needed to be.”  
  
“Not when you wanted to be?”  
  
“I suppose sometimes. You can see why my relationships might have failed,” Graves says with a wry smile.  
  
Credence smiles. “You didn’t enjoy being in love?”  
  
“I think everyone enjoys being in love in the beginning. It was maintaining it I didn’t put enough effort into. I was young anyway.”  
  
“Not so young anymore.”  
  
“I do get older every year,” Graves says and smiles when Credence shakes his head in amusement. “You’ve seen how the last few weeks have gone for me.”  
  
“Not even the right person could get you to slow down a little?”  
  
“Who knows. It doesn’t matter anyway after August 21st. I’ve been led to believe cheating on your spouse is a terrible thing to do.”  
  
Credence smiles and squeezes Graves’ hand. “You’ve got two months still, you know.”  
  
Graves looks at Credence. He’s smiling but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Graves would like to pretend he doesn’t see that but he does. “I am spoken for, Mister Barebone. And everyone knows it. That went out the window the night of the spring ball and I am not nearly as interested in getting my rocks off as I am protecting what we’ve been building. Nor am I going to risk embarrassing everyone involved in this.”  
  
Credence frowns. “I suppose I thought you might have had someone you trusted not to tell everyone you've slept together,” he says. “That seems more like you than a string of random people.”  
  
“There have been both on and off throughout the years,” Graves says and smiles faintly. “My interest in that has severely waned in the last couple of months. It might surprise you but I’m interested in keeping you happy.”  
  
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Credence says. “I think you’ve done a pretty good job of showing me that for a while now.”  
  
“That’s all I’m interested in and will continue being interested in,” Graves says. “You should know you don’t have to worry about anyone else, Credence.”  
  
Credence stares at Graves for a while and what Graves wouldn’t give to never see that fear in his eyes again. He frowns like he’s in pain and looks away and that’s another sight Graves would like to chase away.  
  
“It goes both ways, you know. I want you to be happy too.”  
  
“Look at me and tell me I’m not.”  
  
Credence looks at Graves and he’s still wary, but there’s something a little like hope in his eyes now. A hope that Graves has seen and tried to ignore, as much as he feels it within himself and tries to ignore.  
  
He thinks he’s only going to be doing them a disservice by continuing to ignore it, as much as it scares the shit out of him.  
  
Graves moves his hand to Credence’s cheek and when he moves closer, Credence meets him halfway there.  
  
It’s a terrible idea but Credence’s lips are soft and he’s a warm weight against Graves’ chest when he slides his arm around Credence’s waist and he leans into him. The kiss is slow and almost too tender, but that feels right for now.  
  
Credence’s hand rests over his chest and Graves squeezes his hip and ends the kiss because he knows that if they continue, it’ll become more than tender.  
  
And because there are many children around.  
  
But they don’t move far from each other, their foreheads pressed together.  
  
“I know you think this is a bad idea, Percy,” Credence says quietly and his voice trembles. “If you don’t want to, I understand.”  
  
“I don’t think you understand how much I want to,” Graves says and smiles when Credence’s hand tightens around his shirt. “But we have to get through this first. I think it’s a bad idea before we do.”  
  
“What if you feel differently then?”  
  
“Oh, love,” Graves sighs and leans back a little to look at Credence, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone. “There’s nothing that’s going to make me feel differently.”  
  
He thinks that will be on Credence’s side and he can’t shake the feeling. He’d rather not deal with heartbreak and he thinks he’s already pushed himself into that corner but he’s not going to share that concern with Credence.  
  
Graves doesn’t want Credence to think he’s obligated for anything more than friendship by the end of this. Graves will never feel obligated to give Credence more than friendship, he’d be _thrilled_ to, but there’s something that’s stuck within him that tells him Credence will look at this differently by the end of August.  
  
Even while he seems to be questioning the same thing about Graves.  
  
“Percy, I…” Credence trails off and bites his lip. “It’s nothing,” he says when Graves raises his eyebrows. “I’m just really happy it was you.”  
  
Graves smiles. “I’m happy it was you too,” he says and gently pinches Credence’s chin before putting more distance between them. He keeps his arm around Credence and Credence is still leaned into him and that’s enough for now. “We’ll be able to breathe easier soon, Credence.”  
  
“Yeah,” Credence says softly. “I know we will. I’m looking forward to it.”  
  
“I am too,” Graves says and kisses Credence’s cheek. “It’ll be here before we know it.”  
  
Whether that night, when they step into the apartment together, tied for life, will be one of their best or worst is still up for debate.  
  
——  
  
Graves is entirely sure he has royally fucked up in the following days.  
  
He has enough to keep his mind occupied but if he has a moment not surrounded by other people, trying to get a bite to eat or doing paperwork in his office, Credence is stuck on his mind. He doesn’t hear him from and Graves doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.  
  
But they have lunch on Wednesday and it’s fine. It’s perfectly fine, perfectly normal, with laughter and teasing and cursing their parents here and there. They’re beginning to wrap up plans for their _honoring the family_ gifts and Credence has fantastic ideas and helps to inspire ideas of Graves’ own.  
  
Credence doesn’t push and Graves doesn’t give in when he looks at him a certain way, but they still stay close. Holding hands or arms wrapped around each other and Graves kisses Credence’s cheek when he says hello and goodbye to him.  
  
Nothing seems to have changed beyond the lingering looks and the dreams that have taken on a far better tone than Graves has been experiencing for months. Most of the time, anyway.  
  
They endure two dinners with Silas and Mary Lou through July. _Checking up on things_ is how they choose to put it - making sure they plan on going through with this and doing their duties like they aren’t fucking bound to it by blood - and probably to inflict agonizing pain by way of being near them. Silas still smiles his oily smile and Mary Lou still stares into the depths of Graves’ soul, but they’re hanging in the balance as much as Credence and Graves are.  
  
It’s easier to endure but by the time August comes they hope they only get one more invitation for dinner because they’ll be seeing more of them outside of the manor.  
  
Rehearsals are a thing, as Graves remembers, and theirs are frequent. Every damn Monday and Friday they have to go to the botanical gardens and walk through their schedule with planners and a dozen Aurors, which makes the planners purse their lips until Graves firmly reminds them exactly who the hell they’re speaking to.  
  
They have to speed through it so Graves doesn’t lose his mind missing so much work, but it takes hours considering the schedule is from seven in the morning until ten at night. Credence and Graves agree it will be the longest day of their lives and possibly the most miserable in some places.  
  
But their friends will be there, the family that matters, and Graves has numerous guests of his own from MACUSA, some he’s even fond of. They’ll hardly be alone and the four times set aside for dancing don’t specify with who, so Graves is planning on trying to avoid everyone he hates and protecting Credence from them too.  
  
They’ll be split up far more often than Graves would like, all done on purpose, naturally, but Graves will have eyes on Credence at all moments. Whether that’s through Aurors or their friends, all of who he’s asked to make sure Credence is never alone with anyone. He’s asked that for Modesty and Chastity as well because while there will be other children there, they’ll be children Graves doesn’t want the girls subjected to.  
  
He doesn’t trust anyone, least of all the Pureblood families that do this sort of thing to their family.  
  
Graves is going to have a difficult time balancing his professional and personal life that day. Credence keeps mentioning he thinks he’s going to die from panic before then, which both helps by making him laugh and doesn’t because he looks like he truly might sometimes.  
  
His last interview is in mid-August and they hire him only a handful of days before the wedding. He’d informed them of it - not that they didn’t know - and they tell him he can start on the first of September.  
  
Graves is proud of him and tells him that often. Kisses him that day too, but only for a while.  
  
They don’t have the time for it but Graves makes some anyway and Wednesday night, only three days before the wedding of the year, according to all the papers, everyone meets at the Fontaine household for dinner and celebrations.  
  
Eliza and Kylan, Queenie and Tina, the future Graves’ and the Fontaines all in their house in Jericho and it’s loud, filled with endless laughter and gifts for Credence for accomplishing what he has. He’s getting to be more open with all of them and though it takes him about a half-hour to relax, he’s fine afterward. Embarrassed by the gifts and opening them in front of everyone, embarrassed by the toasts he gets, considering most of them are half-drunk at that point, but he’s fine.  
  
Graves thinks Credence told him he had a good time but he was spectacularly shit-faced so he’s not entirely sure.  
  
He’s tired on Thursday and that’s not his only excuse to lock himself in his office all day long. He needs some peace and quiet too. It feels like only yesterday his father waltzed into MACUSA and turned his life upside down and now Graves is two days away from being a married man.  
  
And he’s marrying Credence. Someone he despised before they even met, someone he made numerous mistakes with but a wonderful man who has forgiven him for them. Who looks at him the way Credence does, with that dazzling smile and genuine warmth and affection in his eyes.  
  
Graves’ stomach still swoops and his heart still races every single time he sees him and he’s afraid to put a name to it. Afraid to make it real.  
  
Sometimes, when Credence whispers _Percy,_ Graves thinks he hears it in his voice, but that scares him even more.  
  
Credence is quieter on Thursday night as well, pale and withdrawn like those first weeks, and it makes Graves’ heart ache.  
  
Mary Lou hasn’t been terrorizing him but he’s terrified for Saturday and Graves could try to reassure him until he’s blue in the face but it wouldn’t matter. He’s frankly terrified himself but Credence only needs his company and not empty words of comfort.  
  
Graves is officially off of work until he wants to go back, leaving the department in the hands of his Captains, and he’s at the brownstone while Mary Lou is off doing the Devil’s work.  
  
They’re moving some of Credence’s things to the apartment tonight before Mary Lou can get her hands on them and it’s the first time Graves steps into Credence’s bedroom.  
  
It’s not exactly tiny but it’s not large either and Graves stands in the doorway, his eyebrows raised.  
  
Credence is standing near his bed, his cheeks red. “I told you I liked them,” he mutters.  
  
“It’s an obsession,” Chastity says behind Graves. “Ma only lets him have them because so many are good for potion ingredients. She nearly threw them out when he was let go from _Bottom’s Up._ I don’t know why she didn’t.”  
  
Graves and Credence exchange a small glance and Graves steps further inside the bedroom, which is mostly jungle. “For Merlin’s fucking sake,” he says. “You told me you liked plants, Credence, but not that I’m going to have to make room for them.”  
  
“Dragot,” Modesty declares.  
  
Graves sighs heavily and digs in his pocket for a Dragot, setting two in her waiting hands. She frowns up at him and he smiles. “That’s for the next one,” he says and looks at Credence. “First you tell me you like to sketch and not that you’re the next fucking Frederic Gruger. You tell me you like plants and not that you own a thousand of them.”  
  
“Just forty-two,” Chastity says with a giggle. “No, forty-three now, after last night.”  
  
Credence blushes more. “That’s Percy’s fault anyway for telling Eliza I like plants,” he says. “I don’t have to take them all. I can take the rare ones into work, I think, and leave some of… some of the others behind or take them to an apothecary, maybe.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “Don’t sound anymore depressed about it, sweetheart, or I might think you’ve grown attached,” he says and smirks when Credence shoots him an irritable frown. “We can take as many as you want. We’ll find the room. Happens to be a big enough place. Come on, let’s get them packed so we can get everything else packed.”  
  
“Alright, alright,” Credence says. “I’m sorry ahead of time, but I’ll get you all into new places soon.”  
  
Some of the plants shake and rattle and hiss in response to this.  
  
Graves follows Credence’s direction on which plants he can safely shrink and pack away while Credence handles the more temperamental ones. Modesty even says goodbye to a few and their branches or flowers reach for her, so she spends enough time with them as well.  
  
It’s only going to be a few more weeks before their lives will change as well and Graves feels his heart twinge in sympathy because it’s going to be difficult. Modesty will likely take to the change better than Chastity, who they’re going to have to visit in Ilvermorny to speak with her about everything.  
  
It’s safest that way, while she’s away from Mary Lou.  
  
Once the plants have all been packed away and Graves can see the rest of the bedroom, it’s not so bad. Cherry wood floors and a large window overlooking the quiet street that offers a fair amount of sunlight. His bed is rather pitifully small to fit other furniture in and Graves wishes he had been able to offer his home earlier, but Credence wouldn’t have taken it. Wouldn’t have left his sisters alone with Mary Lou for that long.  
  
They pack some of Credence’s clothes and other valuables, in Dragots and personal value both, and leave the rest for now. If Mary Lou decides to throw any of it out, Credence won’t miss it, and Graves wonders if anything will be waiting for him after the wedding.  
  
Credence had come by MACUSA earlier today and he is an official member of Graves’ household, which feels like… a massive step, but they aren’t going to be able to find out how they feel about it until Saturday night.  
  
When the door opens downstairs, Modesty and Chastity disappear quickly and Credence sighs as he watches them go.  
  
“I want it to be over for them too, Percy,” he says and sounds near tears, something that happens most days right now, but Graves knows it will get better.  
  
“It will, love. Very soon,” Graves says and moves to Credence, kissing his cheek and rubbing his back. “It’s almost over.”  
  
Credence nods and he does look unwell. He’s losing sleep again and what rest he’s getting isn’t helping. “I know,” he says and sniffs. “I just hate that they’ll be alone for a while.”  
  
“You don’t start work until September, Credence. Stay here during the day. Chastity will go back to Ilvermorny on the 27th and things will already be going by then.”  
  
“Ma is going to fight that, Percy,” Credence whispers. “She didn’t even want them to see me again.”  
  
“If she knows what’s good for her, she won’t,” Graves says darkly. “And if she does, there are ways to make things move faster.”  
  
Credence nods and Graves doesn’t blame him for looking queasy. He hugs Credence, only briefly, because the stairs begin to creak and Mary Lou shouldn’t see them so affectionate with each other. Not yet.  
  
She appears in the doorway as Graves is stacking the trunks and suitcases together on the bed.  
  
“Oh,” Mary Lou says in surprise. “Oh, Credence, I thought I told you your belongings would be waiting for you at the wedding. There was no need to move them yet. You both have so much more to be concerned about.”  
  
“It’s alright, Ma,” Credence says. “It was safer for me to move the plants. I wouldn’t want you to get stung by any of them.”  
  
“And it’s a weight off my shoulders,” Graves says with a smile for Mary Lou. “I am going to be far too drunk on Saturday night to attempt to get all of this in our apartment.”  
  
Mary Lou smiles shortly. “Surely not too drunk, Director Graves, there is a certain decorum to these events.”  
  
“Oh,” Graves says with a frown. “Could’ve sworn to get drunk at weddings was encouraged. Suppose I’ll have to watch my whiskey intake. Or the bartender will.”  
  
“Yes, they were told not to stock any whiskey at all,” Mary Lou says. “Your father might share a drink with you, for old times’ sake, but being coherent for all your duties is important. Wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
“Oh, not entirely,” Graves says. “Hiding the damn whiskey from me at my own wedding. I’m sure we’ll have a good laugh about it afterward. Did you have a dog at some point?”  
  
“Excuse me?” Mary Lou asks.  
  
Graves gestures at scratches across the hardwood floors, from one end of the room to the other, though quite a bit more at the foot of the bed. “Something sharp hit the wood,” he says. “Certainly not the plants’ doing.”  
  
“It probably was, actually,” Credence says. “I move their stands and shelves around all the time.”  
  
Graves looks at Credence. He sounds strange, and he’s looking away from Graves, paler than he was only a moment ago. He’s tugging at his sleeves the way he does when he’s nervous but he abruptly stops when he glances at his mother.  
  
Mary Lou smiles when Graves looks at her. “Such a racket whenever he does,” she says. “It seemed foolish to repair the floors before he left home. He’s very particular about where he likes things.”  
  
Graves stares at her and he thinks if he spoke his mind right now it wouldn’t matter as much. They’re going to be married in two days, there is no stopping this anymore, but he can hear Credence’s breath quicken the way it does when he’s close to panicking.  
  
He moves his hand to Credence’s back and rubs it gently while trying to simmer down the rage burning inside of him. Neither of them is telling the truth and Graves remembers clearly Credence’s flippant remark about being flogged in his bedroom and he thinks there was a heavy truth to it.  
  
Mary Lou will get what’s coming to her in a few short weeks when she loses her daughters, when she loses more than that, but it’s not nearly enough.  
  
It seemed like it would be, seemed like it would be her comeuppance, but if she’s been causing Credence’s body harm that would leave sharp marks on the floor during a punishment, Graves would rather see her in prison.  
  
But there’s always been a danger to that, for Credence and him both.  
  
At the moment, Graves doesn’t give a shit about headlines and the way it would look, the way it would follow him. He itches for his wand more. His eyes sting.  
  
“Are you alright, Director Graves?” Mary Lou asks.  
  
Graves feels Credence’s hand grip his shirt at his back and smiles. “Just fine, ma’am,” he says. “I’m marrying your son in less than forty-eight hours. Couldn’t be happier.”  
  
“How wonderful to hear,” Mary Lou says with a wide smile. “A happy union was what we always aimed for. Will you stay for tea?”  
  
“I will not,” Graves says. “Credence and I need to unpack and get to bed early tonight.”  
  
“A good idea,” Mary Lou says. “I’ll leave you to it.”  
  
Graves watches her go before he moves his hand to his forehead and closes his eyes. Credence’s hand is still gripping his shirt and it’s trembling. He looks at Credence and sees that he’s shaken up.  
  
Whatever bloodlust Graves has isn’t important.  
  
“I’m sorry, Percy,” Credence says. “For upsetting you.”  
  
Graves turns to him and moves his hands to Credence’s cheeks. “Credence, look at me,” he says quietly. Credence does, his eyes wide and fearful. “Love, you are not at fault for anything and I’ll tell you that every day until you believe me. It’s alright, Credence.”  
  
Credence squeezes his eyes shut. When he looks at Graves, some of the fear is gone and he looks tired. “I know,” he says softly. “I know it is. That it will be.”  
  
“Before you know it,” Graves says and leans in, kissing Credence.  
  
Credence kisses back, fiercely so, holding onto Graves’ arms and his soft whimper isn’t one of joy or pleasure. It’s still fear but it’s also hope, Graves thinks, and as long as Credence has hope, that’s enough for tonight.  
  
Graves pulls back and bumps his forehead gently against Credence’s. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. Find a place for your plants,” he says quietly. “Have a stiff drink or three.”  
  
“Just one,” Credence says and sniffs. “We have a long day ahead of us.”  
  
“Don’t remind me,” Graves sighs and moves back, taking Credence’s hand. He waves his other at the stacked trunks and luggage, which lift into the air. “I _am_ going to need alcohol to get through it.”  
  
“You only need to remember how Saturday is going to go between all of the shit,” Credence says. “Something to look forward to.”  
  
“It is,” Grave agrees and sends the luggage out of the room. They follow it, holding each other’s hand tightly. “All smooth sailing once we are Mister and Mister Graves.”  
  
“Time to let our hair down,” Credence says with a pale smile.  
  
Graves winks at him before they walk downstairs. He says good night to Modesty and Chastity and offers a salute to Mary Lou, which always makes her purse her lips in disapproval.  
  
They leave the brownstone and take Credence’s belongings home.  
  
He takes the suitcases into his bedroom and Graves watches him go. He wants to offer his room but that seems like a bad idea even now. If he’s lucky enough to have Credence’s interest after Saturday still, he might.  
  
Graves isn’t looking forward to coming home that night. He isn’t looking forward to seeing Credence’s face when it all sinks in that this is home now. That he’s a Graves and the brownstone is gone, his mother is gone, and his sisters will experience a massive change shortly after.  
  
He sighs and with a wave of his wand, the trunks spring open and he works on expanding the plants to size, leaving the more dangerous ones for Credence.  
  
Credence joins him after a while and they’re quiet as they work. The living room is plenty big enough for many of them but Credence stores some in a spare bedroom and puts others in his bedroom.  
  
Graves can hear him thoroughly apologizing to them and smiles to himself as he gets a glass of whiskey. If he takes a drink from the bottle first, well, Credence doesn’t see. He sits on the sofa and sighs, feeling the aches and pains of a very long month and an even longer week.  
  
“It’s not even quite eight,” Credence says as he walks into the living room, smiling faintly. “But you’d probably sleep the whole night through if you went to bed.”  
  
“You would too,” Graves says and pats Credence’s thigh when he sits down. “And it’d be a good idea.”  
  
“Yeah, it would be,” Credence sighs and snakes an arm around Graves’ waist. He rests his head on Graves’ shoulder. “I think you underestimate how much my thoughts keep me up at night.”  
  
“I don’t think I do. But I also think you’re exhausted enough for sleep,” Graves says with a chuckle. “I can send you home with a sleeping draught if it’ll help.”  
  
“It might,” Credence admits. “Just to get through tonight and tomorrow night.”  
  
“I’ll give you one, half each night,” Graves says through a yawn. The image of the marks in the wooden floors of Credence’s room comes back to him unbidden and Graves thinks he might need a sleeping draught himself. “Doesn’t look too bad in here.”  
  
“It doesn’t,” Credence says. “Sorry I didn’t tell you how many I have. Thank you for letting me bring them.”  
  
Graves rubs Credence’s hip. “Happy to have them. It’s your home too, so make it yours,” he says. “Probably needed more life here anyway.”  
  
“It’s a beautiful home,” Credence says. “Just needs more of you in it.”  
  
“Give me another forty years, should be retired around then,” Graves says and smiles when Credence pinches his side. “It might be kind of nice coming home to you and your plants every day.”  
  
“Just kind of?”  
  
“Well, I’m going to be mourning my bachelorhood for a while, I imagine,” Graves says and chuckles when Credence looks at him, unimpressed. “It’s going to be very nice, Credence. It’s going to be nice to be home for a couple of days doing nothing with you too before I go back to work.”  
  
Credence smiles. “We deserve to do nothing but eat and sleep,” he says. “Come on, walk me out.”  
  
Graves sighs and grabs his whiskey, tipping it back before he takes Credence’s hand and standing. “Let me get you that sleeping draught first,” he says and walks into his bedroom. He gets it out of a locked cabinet in his bathroom and meets Credence at the door, handing him the vial filled with a purple potion. “You’ll be alright?”  
  
“Yes,” Credence says with a smile. “And I’ll see you at nine. Thank you, Percy.”  
  
“Always,” Graves sighs and kisses Credence’s cheek. “Good night.”  
  
“Good night,” Credence says and walks into the hall after Graves has opened the door.  
  
Graves would very much like for him to stay and Credence looks like he wants to be asked to stay, but he can’t. Not yet. Graves isn’t about to risk fucking up anything to do with hidden blood magic promises or putting Credence in a position to be hurt by his mother.  
  
Two more days.  
  
Credence smiles like he’s thinking the same thing and walks down the hall.  
  
Graves watches him go and waits until he’s in the lift before he locks up the apartment for the night. He does go straight to bed, barely managing to get out of his clothes before lying down and looking at the space next to him.  
  
He sighs and looks away and doesn’t have time to think about everything that has led up to this weekend and what may come after it before he falls asleep.  
  
——  
  
The next day is a painful one for many reasons.  
  
They have to meet Silas and Mary Lou at the botanical gardens early in the morning with the planners they’ve hired to ensure everything is ready for tomorrow.  
  
It involves going through their schedules and duties at a slow pace and Graves is in a bad mood. It gets even worse each hour that passes and he has to listen to his father and Mary Lou chuckle and watch them smile every time the guests are mentioned.  
  
It’s unbelievable how far they’ve gone just to earn their places back in the wizarding world, in high society, all for the respect they’ll gain. And they will gain it but not from the people that matter most. Pureblood families like their own, yes, but Graves and Credence will ensure that’s short-lived respect.  
  
That doesn’t make Graves any less angry. And he truly does not give a single shit if everyone knows it. The planners look shocked sometimes when he offers his opinion on it all and his father eventually says _anymore of your insolence won’t be tolerated_ as if Graves isn’t who he is but a thirteen year old boy again. He’s more than happy to remind him who he’s talking to and ignores Credence when he tugs at his hand.  
  
Marrying Credence isn’t a nightmare. It’s not the end of the world. Graves is looking forward to sharing a home with him and only hopes he doesn’t fuck it up. Only hopes Credence keeps looking at him the way he does now.  
  
But Graves wishes they had met differently, that this had occurred naturally, the way they would have both wanted it. He would still help Modesty and Chastity but he wouldn’t care as much about Mary Lou’s fate. He could send her to prison and wouldn’t have to worry about it following him because this public wedding would never have happened.  
  
And he keeps thinking about what he saw last night. Graves wonders how long it’s been happening and how often it happened while he pretended Credence didn’t exist, while he dealt with the fallout of disrespecting his mother, and the guilt comes back more potent.  
  
So if he’s unpleasant during lunch inside the aviary, well, Silas and Mary Lou can shove it up their ass for all he cares.  
  
Their snide remarks about the various duties they have to perform - conversations with individual families, pictures with them, dancing, receiving gifts and having to act like they’re honored to get them, _the family honoring,_ and other small things - get his blood boiling because they have gotten their way.  
  
They’ve done this to Graves and Credence, and they will experience the consequences of it, but they still did this. His father took his blood after his own physical punishment, and Mary Lou took Credence’s when he was days old and performed blood magic that is seen as barbaric because they are evil at heart.  
  
They are the people Graves puts in prison and the fact that he can’t do that to them will be something that takes time to simmer down.  
  
Graves does behave after lunch, after Credence takes him aside and asks him to because it’s miserable enough already having to spend the day with them. He tells Graves he understands why he’s upset and from the look in his eyes, Credence truly does, and Graves’ own eyes might sting, but he does keep his mouth shut after. It does only give Silas and Mary Lou what they want, after all, and after tomorrow that will swiftly end.  
  
Some decorations have already been put up, silvers and blacks. The massive area that the ceremony will take place in, a grassy sort of field leading out to trees and backed by a courtyard filled with marble statues and numerous flowering bushes, has tables and chairs in stacks waiting to be put out. So many of them that Credence looks like he may be sick again, a pleasant reminder about how many people will be here and watching their every move. Graves reminds him their friends and family will be here too but it doesn’t help today.  
  
Graves can’t blame him and feels much the same way.  
  
There’s no wedding arch that normal, sane people have at weddings, often woven with flowers or other things that mean something to the couple, but a wide and dark, flat stone statue they’ll stand in front of with two intricately carved animals jutting out of the top corners to hover above their heads.  
  
A raven on Graves’ side that looks like it’s prepared to fight the shrake on Credence’s, a magical fish with long rows of sharp teeth and numerous, vicious spines on its body.  
  
It is possibly the worst thing Graves has seen in his life and when he looks at Credence, he’s gazing up at it with his lips pursed. He looks horrified and like he’s trying not to laugh both and covers his mouth when he looks at Graves, who does laugh.  
  
It’s more comfortable after that, mainly because Silas and Mary Lou seemed to be expecting them to admire such craftsmanship.  
  
“You didn’t tell me your family symbol was a shrake,” Graves says as they linger behind.  
  
“I didn’t know it was,” Credence says and bites his lip to stop a grin. “I used their spines for one of the potions I brewed in my interviews. Terrorizing no-maj fishermen and potion ingredients are about all they’re good for.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “It looks like the raven wants to sink its talons into it.”  
  
“What do you think it means? We’ll be at war our entire marriage?”  
  
“Maybe. That’s what they’re hoping for anyway.”  
  
“We just might be.”  
  
“Oh? In what way?”  
  
“You don’t have any pictures or art on the walls of the apartment. I’d like to put some up. What if you hate them?”  
  
“Ah,” Graves says. “The apartment is swiftly moving from comfortable but minimal to an art and plant jungle. Fortunately for you, sweetheart, I happen to like it. Put whatever you want up.”  
  
Credence smiles. “Then maybe we’ll do alright,” he says. “We’ve got a handful of decades to wage war against each other in other ways.”  
  
“As long as it’s war we can laugh about.”  
  
“Is war funny?”  
  
“Are we not waging war against Frankenstein and his monster? Do you not remember that monstrosity back there we’re going to have to say _I do_ under?”  
  
Credence laughs and looks at Graves with a grin. “It really is awful.”  
  
“Yes, it fucking is,” Graves says. “You and I can never beat that in terms of weaponry against each other but we can certainly laugh at it.” He kisses Credence’s cheek and takes his hand. “Alright,” he sighs. “Let’s find the amusement in this for the rest of the day and carry it through tomorrow. Better for both of us, I imagine. I’m sorry about earlier.”  
  
“Don’t be,” Credence says. “No one’s ever been so angry on my behalf before. It means a lot to me, Percy.”  
  
“Well,” Graves sighs. “You mean a lot to me, Credence.”  
  
Credence smiles, his cheeks pink. “And just think,” he says, “we have our own symbolic gifts to present to them.”  
  
“We do,” Graves says and squeezes Credence’s hand. “Not entirely sure they’re even half as bad as that thing back there, though.”  
  
That gets Credence laughing again until they see that Silas and Mary Lou are impatiently waiting for them to catch up so they can continue for the day.  
  
Dinner is just as painful later, but Graves makes sure to enjoy Credence’s company rather than caring about Silas and Mary Lou’s.  
  
They don’t leave the damn place until half-past eight and Graves kisses Credence and tells him he can’t wait to experience hell with him, but at least they’ll look good doing it. Credence doesn’t look particularly comforted but he still smiles and kisses Graves very briefly before saying good night.  
  
Graves watches Credence go and thinks about just over twenty-four hours from now when he’ll be able to take Credence home with him for good, officially a Graves, and can only hope he will feel the relief that Graves already does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost there!!! I sketched the wedding arch of horrors they're gonna get married under and plan to refine it in Photoshop if my health issues let me, if anyone wants to see it lmao
> 
> Thank you for all your comments, they really mean so much to me. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on this one too! They inspire me to keep writing. <3


	5. Chapter 5

When Graves wakes up the next morning at six, he stares at the ceiling for a while.  
  
A day of great magnitude, he might say, and he is used to large events where he has to be charming and interested in what boring people have to say, but this is different. It couldn’t be any more different and it makes him queasy.  
  
They have a formal breakfast with immediate family at seven that’s supposed to last until ten, with coffee and tea. It’s an old tradition, one meant to bring everyone together for a pleasant experience, a soft and cozy start to a busy day. It’s still a tradition most wizarding families follow before the family takes over, getting everything finished as far as decorating and seating arrangements go, ensuring centerpieces are made, and meals and desserts are adequately prepared.  
  
The actual wedding starts at four in the afternoon but there’s plenty Credence and Graves have to do before then. Pictures, mainly, but also taking another stroll through the entire fucking gardens to ensure everything is done, and to complain if it’s not. Graves has his own two hours set aside that his father so graciously gave him to work with his department and adjust any plans as needed once the venue was set up.  
  
They’ll be sent home for showers and will meet with the tailor afterward when they dress to have time for any last-minute adjustments to their tuxedos.  
  
Spending time with their respective families and what would typically be the wedding party shortly after that, while guests arrive and are corralled into their seats, which their planners mentioned tends to take nearly an hour for large weddings like this.  
  
Definitely going to be the longest day of Graves and Credence’s lives.  
  
Graves gets out of bed and dresses for the morning. He drinks a cup of coffee and doesn’t dare look at the newspaper that was delivered, but he gets two owls before he leaves the apartment.  
  
Words of encouragement from Sera, which manages to make him smile. Words of encouragement from Fontaine, if they can be called that, which works to make him laugh.  
  
Graves leaves and goes to the manor. Breakfast was going to be held there or at the Barebone home. Both have large enough dining rooms, but this entire charade was Silas’ idea, and he wants an iron grip of control for as long as he possibly can.  
  
Eliza and Kylan are waiting for him and Graves walks to them.  
  
“Horrible morning,” Eliza says.  
  
“Horrible morning to you as well,” Graves says and kisses his sister’s forehead and shakes Kylan’s hand. “When was the last time you were here?”  
  
“Oh,” Eliza sighs. “When he thought he’d give me business advice when I opened the fourth store. Framed it as an urgent matter and we were stuck with him for two hours over lunch.”  
  
“Bastard,” Kylan says. “We can’t complain all that much with as many dinners as you’ve endured here in the last five months.”  
  
Graves smiles wryly. “It’s been nearly five months of agony, yes,” he says and slings an arm around Eliza’s shoulders. “Only fifteen or so more hours to go.”  
  
“You’ve moved Credence’s belongings into the apartment?” Eliza asks and smiles when Graves nods. “Good. How is he?”  
  
“Not bad,” Graves says. “Just wait until you see the venue in a few hours. Credence and I managed to laugh about it but it truly is horrifying.”  
  
Kylan and Eliza laugh. “Merlin, what are the colors?”  
  
“Silver and black, naturally,” Graves says. “Not bad for tuxedos but for an entire wedding theme? Something to behold.”  
  
Kylan shakes his head. “About as warm as this place is,” he says and glances at the manor with distaste. “I’ll be glad to never see it again.”  
  
“Only one more time, hopefully. When we set it on fire,” Eliza sighs and smiles. “Oh, look at the happy family.”  
  
With a _crack,_ the Barebones arrive, all wearing the same sort of unsettling empty stare that Mary Lou excels at and Graves peers at them with concern.  
  
Credence smiles when he sees Graves and he’s still far too pale, but the smile is genuine. Chastity and Modesty are different stories and though Chastity gives him a small smile, Modesty’s eyes are red-rimmed and she avoids looking at anyone.  
  
It wouldn’t normally mean much if they were a group of normal, happy people, as children do tend to cry a lot, but they are not normal, nor are they happy and Graves tries not to imagine strangling their mother because it’s barely seven in the damn morning.  
  
“What happened?” he asks when Credence comes close and Mary Lou takes her daughters up the stairs and to the doors that swing open for them.  
  
“Modesty mentioned wanting to show you a drawing and Ma tried to remind her that we’d be living our own busy lives after today and we didn’t have time to see her,” Credence sighs. “Modesty didn’t agree.”  
  
“Did she hurt her?”  
  
“With cruelty, not her hand,” Credence says and shakes his head when Kylan squeezes his shoulder. “I’m not going to be able to sleep until they’re away from her.”  
  
Eliza sighs. “Can you not push it through faster?” she asks Graves.  
  
“I can,” Graves says. “There’s a risk to it, for the girls, mostly, and their health. Credence will be spending time there and I will too. Give Mary Lou a reminder now and then that I am very much watching.”  
  
“It’s worked so far,” Credence says. “And hopefully it’ll continue working because they won’t have this over us anymore.”  
  
“They’ll be alright,” Kylan says. “In the short term and the long term.”  
  
Credence smiles faintly and nods. “They will. They’re strong,” he says. “Percy told me they’ll be okay today too.”  
  
Eliza smiles. “All of us will be keeping them close. You worry about yourselves today. And making sure this one doesn’t curse our father at any point. We barely managed to stop him at our mother’s funeral.”  
  
“Still think you should’ve let me,” Graves says. “We could have been remembering it all these years, something to cheer us up when we’re feeling down.”  
  
Eliza rolls her eyes. “Alright, come on. Inside,” she says. “Before he sends Miss Sterling out.”  
  
Graves smiles and watches Eliza take Kylan’s hand and walk up the stairs. He takes Credence’s and squeezes it. “You doing alright?”  
  
“Yeah,” Credence says and shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel like today is real, but that might be better.” He smiles and walks with Graves into the manor. “The sleeping draught helped a lot the last two nights.”  
  
“Good,” Graves says. “Let me know if you need another one tonight.”  
  
Credence nods. “I probably will. I’m going to have a lot of new reasons for nightmares after today.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “You and me both,” he says and smiles. “Let’s get through this first one.”  
  
The blood-red wallpaper really does add a lot of character to the dining room. Very fitting for starting the day off with an ominous tone and Graves ignores his father entirely when he says good morning and kneels next to Modesty on her mother’s left. He conjures a daisy in his hand and she grins when she sees it, and he tucks it behind her ear.  
  
“Did you know there’s a lot of dancing at weddings?”  
  
Modesty nods. “Yes.”  
  
“Would you share one with me? Maybe the first one?”  
  
“That’s supposed to be Credence,” Modesty whispers.  
  
“Shit, you’re right,” Graves sighs. “Alright, the second one then.”  
  
“Okay,” Modesty says very seriously. “But I don’t know how.”  
  
“Don’t worry about that,” Graves says. “Your brother doesn’t either.”  
  
Modesty giggles and so does Chastity at her side, but she coughs daintily after, surely an attempt to hide it from her mother.  
  
Graves smiles and winks at Modesty when she grins at him before he moves around the table and takes his seat at his father’s right. Credence is smiling at him and Graves thinks that this day is going to be absolute shit, but maybe not quite as terrible as they’d been thinking.  
  
He hadn’t expected any smiles today from anyone, but there’s a certain sort of cheerfulness around the table that has probably never occurred here. Kylan and Eliza help, keeping up conversations with Modesty and Chastity, which Mary Lou couldn’t stop if she tried.  
  
It keeps them distracted from the occasional remark they shouldn’t hear from Silas or Graves.  
  
There’s plenty of coffee, strongly brewed, and breakfast is plentiful. Credence and Graves barely touch theirs but Graves thinks that’s fair. And it always gets on Silas’ nerves, which makes up for the lack of appetite he and the manor still causes.  
  
They have more coffee and talk about the plans for the day, as if they haven’t walked through it twelve times by now, and Credence looks as bored with it as Graves is, but breakfast passes quickly enough.  
  
Everyone goes to the botanical gardens afterward to meet with the planners and walk through it yet again. Still, Graves and Credence have the pleasure of watching Eliza and Kylan grimace at just about everything too.  
  
“It might be pretty,” Eliza says as they walk through round tables decorated with white cloth and silver and black centerpieces made of prickly flowers and baubles. “If this was some sort of business function.”  
  
“That’s exactly what it is, dear,” Kylan says. “The cold, hard world of business transactions disguised as Pureblood weddings.”  
  
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Graves says and pats Credence’s back when he cringes. “We should do another one. Casual and friendly and where people won’t be scolded for smiling.”  
  
“I actually kind of like that idea,” Credence laughs. “Get a picture or two that won’t be like today. I could stand looking at them, maybe.”  
  
“That is a good idea,” Eliza says. “I’d be more than happy to arrange it for you.”  
  
“We’ll see how we feel after today,” Graves chuckles.  
  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Kylan mutters suddenly and Eliza at his side gasps.  
  
Graves smiles shortly as they look up at the stone statue as they approach it. “Isn’t it something,” he says and smirks when Credence giggles at his side. “Doesn’t it scream love and happy unions?”  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Eliza says and covers her mouth. “Oh, this is terrifying.”  
  
“Excellent craftsmanship, isn’t it?” Silas asks as he joins them. “It was carved from a large smoky quartz crystal.”  
  
“Stunning,” Kylan says. “What will you do with it after?”  
  
“If Percival owned a home, it would be given to them as a reminder of this day,” Silas says with a smile. “But it’ll be kept at the manor until one day it’s his.”  
  
Graves smiles. “What a thing to look forward to,” he says. “Almost makes me even more excited for that day.”  
  
“Always so funny, Percival,” Silas says. “I do hope you keep your wit today. You’ll need it.”  
  
“You didn’t schedule me for any so I’m not entirely sure I’ll find the time for it.”  
  
“Then perhaps you’ll take today seriously, as it’s meant to be. You wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of so many people.”  
  
Graves hums thoughtfully. “You are right about that,” he says and looks at his father. “I’d hate for anyone to be embarrassed today.”  
  
Silas stares at Graves and he stares levelly back. “Come along,” he says after a moment of quiet. “We still have so much to go over and a short time to do it in.”  
  
He walks off to meet Mary Lou and her daughters and they follow at a more leisurely pace.  
  
“I’ve missed those moments,” Eliza says dryly. “Be careful, Percy.”  
  
“I don’t think I’m the right person to say that to.”  
  
“The spotlight is on you and Credence today.”  
  
“I am perfectly aware of that,” Graves says. “And I am always careful to plan ahead.” He glances at his watch, noting that it’s an hour before he has his own work to do.  
  
“Don’t worry, Eliza,” Credence says. “The papers are only going to write about what a success today was.”  
  
“We can only hope,” Kylan says.  
  
Graves smiles and winks at Credence and gets that mischievous smile of his in return. The one he falls for more every day.  
  
When they’ve finished going through how the day will proceed, Eliza and Kylan are tasked with duties of their own, as are Modesty and Chastity and Graves ensures those aren’t unreasonable before he leaves for the courtyard.  
  
Credence is at his mother’s mercy for the next couple of hours but he’s been at her mercy for thirty years and assures Graves he’ll be fine.  
  
Graves meets with his Captains, who all grimace sympathetically, along with some of their team members. It’s easy to fall into work then, and he points out various concerns that he’s had on his mind since they started walking through the gardens and the new ones he has as of today while nearly everything is set up.  
  
They run him through the guest list and their own concerns about some of them and tell him who is assigned to watch who. Tina is here as well with other juniors and seniors, though she’s coming as a guest, but Graves has tasked her with keeping her eyes on Modesty and Chastity at all times and to have Queenie aid her when necessary.  
  
“This is a fucking nightmare,” Fontaine says when he and Graves are walking through the tables with others, inspecting them because Graves is paranoid. “An indoor wedding would’ve been less of a nightmare.”  
  
“Don’t think I haven’t thought of that as well,” Graves says. “Maybe they’re hoping we’ll be targeted. Murdered so they can give a years’ worth of interviews about how terribly sad it all was.”  
  
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” Fontaine says darkly. “Unfortunately, we have procedures for that.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “We do,” he agrees. “And procedures if it does happen.”  
  
“You brewing the second you get home?”  
  
“I absolutely am,” Graves says. “Or letting Credence do it if he wants. And with any luck, we’ll be finished with this. If we are unlucky, I hope you’re prepared to take the seat because I will be going to Attermarc for murder.”  
  
“You know how to make it look like an accident. Don’t be so pessimistic,” Fontaine says lightly.  
  
“You know me and Barrows will help you clean up any mess, Percy,” Jauncey says from a few tables away. “I’m not taking orders from Fontaine any time soon.”  
  
“I am already your superior,” Fontaine says. “But that has never mattered, has it?”  
  
“Not even a little,” Jauncey says with a smirk. “I’d fight for the seat myself if we were on equal ground.”  
  
“You might just get it,” Graves says. “Fontaine is at a disadvantage with his severe lack of knowing how to be charming or navigating politics.”  
  
“Been learning from you all these years. I think I’ll be perfectly fine,” Fontaine says. “Eldora wouldn’t let it happen anyway.”  
  
“See?” Barrows says from another few tables away. “No matter who you murder, we’re all on your side.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Glad to know my department is so loyal,” he says. “Too bad Sera is missing this conversation.”  
  
Jauncey laughs. “She would say day is night for you and no one would question her. Sad she’s missing out on this one,” she says and smiles when they chuckle.  
  
They finish sweeping through the gardens some time later. Interviews with staff have already been conducted over the past few weeks and a handful have been replaced to Fontaine’s liking.  
  
It is a security nightmare but they’ve faced worse and Graves is far more worried about the various families he’s going to be locked in a proverbial wand battle with throughout the evening.  
  
Half of his Aurors leave when Graves and Credence do to get their own tuxedos on and the other half will do the same later.  
  
Graves steps into his apartment for the last time as an unmarried man and doesn’t feel much of anything. Credence is already here, has been for a while now, and the various plants scattered around the living room and kitchen make him feel a particular sense of calm.  
  
He was so damn worried about Credence’s _things_ in his apartment when this all began and he thinks that’s the ultimate way to know they’ve won this.  
  
Graves and Credence’s happiness. Credence is still smiling and Graves hopes he continues to, even if that pit is still sitting in his stomach, but maybe Credence can help ease some of his own fears.  
  
He showers and styles his hair as he always does and leaves for the tailor on Fifth.  
  
It’s such a stuffy shop compared to Anita’s. She had written to him after it was announced and he had explained to her some of the circumstances while mentioning he’d send an invitation. She declined but offered to burn their tuxedos afterward and make them something special later, and Graves is reminded again why she’s one of his favorite people.  
  
His father’s tailor is a short, round man with a walrus-sized silver mustache, as stuffy as his shop is, but professional and quick with his work. He’d hardly spoken to Credence and Graves when they’d come in to get their measurements taken and that was likely for the best.  
  
Credence arrives a few minutes after Graves and his hair is more of a mess than usual despite being freshly washed and Graves smiles.  
  
“Did you attempt to put something in it?” he asks and smirks when Credence frowns irritably.  
  
“I had to rewash it. It looked so bad,” he says and shrugs. “I realized I didn’t care after.”  
  
“Good,” Graves says. “I like it this way.” He rubs Credence’s back and sighs. “Ready to be paraded around like a pair of show dogs?”  
  
“No,” Credence says. “Would it be bad form to make faces at the camera?”  
  
“Probably,” Graves says. “Maybe we should do it anyway.”  
  
“Gentlemen,” Mister Bellfield says as he walks to the counter. “This way, please, and we’ll try to make this quick. Some of my best work, I have to say.”  
  
Graves and Credence follow him into a wide fitting room where two assistants await and their tuxedos hang on either side of the room.  
  
They are handsome, the materials as fine of quality as what Anita uses in her own work. Their bowties are silver to match the wedding theme and the inner cuffs are lined with silver satin. The buttons are the same color, an artful G swirled around each one of them, presumably in case they forgot the Graves name.  
  
When Graves tells Mister Bellfield to change them, he wisely doesn’t argue and replaces the buttons with a flat silver that is far more pleasing to the eye.  
  
There are a few small adjustments made when they’re dressed in their tuxedos, but not many. Graves and Credence are both wearing silver watches and they look smart. Credence looks too smart, really, because he gets Graves’ heart racing all over again, no matter how much he grimaces at himself in the mirror.  
  
“Brought my own cufflinks, thank you,” Graves says sternly to one of the assistants who bring them out on a tray lined with velvet. He shrinks away and Graves walks to Credence. “Stop looking at yourself like that. You are absolutely stunning.”  
  
Credence blushes. “I am not,” he mutters. “I’ve never worn anything like this before.”  
  
“You are going to draw the eye, love,” Graves says and laughs when Credence grimaces again. “Here,” he adds and holds out his hand toward his clothes until four silver cufflinks zoom from his pocket and hover in the air next to him. He grabs two and gestures for Credence’s wrist.  
  
“Had these made,” Graves says when Credence frowns. “I am a fan of cufflinks and only trust one person to make unique ones for me.” He hands Credence one and puts the other on his cuff.  
  
It’s round, flat silver with artfully twisting vines stamped into them that continue over the edges. They’re excellent work and Graves hadn’t expected any less, but the smile on Credence’s face makes him glad he’d thought to do this.  
  
He puts the other one on for Credence and smiles.  
  
Credence does the same for Graves. “Thank you, Percy,” he says softly. “They’re so heavy.”  
  
“Mhmm,” Graves hums. “Goblin made and they work with pure metals.”  
  
 _“You_ get goblin made cufflinks?”  
  
“I promise you only the goblins in Gringotts despise me,” Graves says with a smile. “I do. Costs me a small fortune but they’ve proved useful on occasion.”  
  
“Goblin magic?” Credence asks with interest.  
  
Mister Bellfield scoffs a little as he puts various things away with his assistants.  
  
“Nothing that’ll help tonight. But better than the plain old ones you find in tailors’ shops that lack any magic at all,” Graves says with a smirk. He kisses Credence’s cheek and looks at Bellfield. “We’re done?”  
  
“Yes, sirs, you are.”  
  
“Less than two hours,” Graves says and smiles when Credence sighs. “Come on, love, we’re getting there.”  
  
They leave for the gardens and are whisked away for pictures. A long and arduous affair for everyone involved. Most pictures involve only Credence and Graves, but there are plenty of others taken that involve family.  
  
Eliza is beautiful in a long, deep blue gown, a ribbon the same color keeping her raven hair tied into a wavy bun. Kylan is wearing a black suit with a matching blue tie and pocket square and looks about as happy as everyone else to be involved in formal wedding pictures.  
  
Chastity and Modesty are wearing matching flowy dresses made of a grey material with a black ribbon around their waists, their blonde hair styled as severely as their mothers. Modesty seems to be having trouble with her dress shoes with a small heel and Graves suspects she’s never worn anything like them.  
  
Graves feels enormously sorry for them and when they’ve gotten enough pictures to last a lifetime, he calls an end to the formality. He tells the photographers they’re familiar with more casual pictures, which they agree with, and has some taken. Shoes off in a few, and he dares Silas and Mary Lou to have something to say about it.  
  
They leave them be instead.  
  
When guests start to arrive, Credence joins his mother and sisters and Graves joins his father with Eliza and Kylan in a secluded area of the gardens where guests aren’t allowed.  
  
Classical music is playing from a gramophone somewhere and Graves feels mildly ill now and itches to be with Credence because he suspects he feels worse.  
  
In an hour and a half they’ll be married.  
  
“For as short of time as we had for planning, Miss Barebone and I are pleased with how everything has come together,” Silas says. “Nearly exactly what we planned for, in the end.”  
  
“Didn’t you have thirty years to plan it?” Eliza asks with a frown.  
  
Graves smiles at his sister and adjusts his bowtie as Silas ignores her entirely.  
  
“Always best to wait until the last minute to plan nefarious deeds,” Graves says. “But it does fit you and Miss Barebone very well. I would have thought it was supposed to fit Credence and I, but I suppose that’s selfish thinking.”  
  
Silas has always had little patience for his children and it used to frighten Graves, the look in his eyes, as hard as steel, but he only smiles now.  
  
“This area is off limits to guests,” one of the unfortunate planners that’s stuck with them says to three approaching women.  
  
“They’ve been invited,” Graves says firmly and she shrinks away. “Between Eliza and you three, I don’t think I’ve ever seen women so stunning.”  
  
Tina nearly trips on her high heel and glares at Graves when he chuckles.  
  
She is in purple, a dark shade of it, with a purple hat to match and she hasn’t quite left the lace behind because the hat is adorned with it. The bag she carries with her is black, her shoes’ color, and she looks wildly uncomfortable and Graves thinks he’ll remind her of it often when they’re at work.  
  
Queenie is wearing a light pink dress and tall heels, her blonde hair as wavy as it always is and her grin as wide and dimpled.  
  
“Hi, honey,” she says cheerfully. “Glad you think so. It only took Teenie two days’ worth of shopping to find a dress.”  
  
“There aren’t a lot of purple ones, shockingly,” Tina mutters and smiles tightly.  
  
Juliette, an old friend of the family, is wearing pale yellow with a string of pearls around her neck, her light blonde hair tightly coiled, and she kisses both of Graves’ cheeks.  
  
Graves makes introductions and his father is forced to be polite. It obviously pains him to be, this particular off-schedule meeting undoubtedly inspiring the ire Graves doesn’t give a shit about. The reminder that Tina is one of his Aurors helps.  
  
“Hi, Mister Graves,” Queenie says with a wide smile when she’s introduced.  
  
“Are you another Auror, Miss Goldstein?”  
  
“Oh gosh no, honey,” Queenie says. “That’s not the kind of job for me. I work downstairs in the Wand Permit Office if Percy isn’t assigning me work of his own.”  
  
“What work does my son assign a Wand Permit Office employee?” Silas asks.  
  
“Oh, all kinds,” Queenie says. “Research on blood magic most recently.”  
  
“Ah,” Silas says with a tight smile. “You found nothing interesting, I imagine.”  
  
“Plenty interesting,” Queenie says. “But not what Percy was looking for, I don’t think. Isn’t it somethin’ that magic only allows a blood ritual for this sort of thing?”  
  
“That we’re aware of,” Silas says and smiles when Queenie giggles.  
  
Juliette coughs a little. “That doesn’t look like Anita’s work,” she says as she looks at Graves.  
  
“It’s not,” Graves says. “She was heartbroken and is sure I look horrible tonight, but it was firmly out of my hands.”  
  
“As this whole evening was, from my understanding,” Juliette says with a smile. “How very strange, indeed.”  
  
“Arranged marriages are typically done this way,” Silas says pleasantly. “I’m not familiar with your surname, Miss.”  
  
“I imagine not,” Juliette says and turns to Tina and Queenie. “Shall we find our seats? There are so many of them and I haven’t seen some of Percy’s guests in so long.”  
  
“Good idea,” Tina mutters with a glance at Silas. “I should check in with Mister Fontaine after.”  
  
“It’s so nice to meet Percy’s family, finally,” Queenie says and smiles at Eliza and Kylan, who return it. “You’re gonna have to tell us all kinds of stories.”  
  
“One of my favorite things to do,” Eliza laughs. “We’ll see you shortly. I do believe we’re sitting next to each other.”  
  
Graves winks at Queenie and hears the general roar of a crowd steadily growing across the grounds, the music that was playing difficult to hear now.  
  
Besides Silas’ attempts to hear more about Graves’ old friends and Graves choosing not to indulge him, they endure painful conversation. It amazes Graves when his father speaks of the guests that have been invited, both his and Graves’, the sheer amount of personal things he knows about them and the way he looks down on so many of them.  
  
This is about gaining respect and relevancy, Graves reminds himself, and yet it’s a sad reminder of how far Silas has fallen. He’s still admired in his circles, the circles that supply him with all of the personal information about anyone he cares to ask about, but there’s a reason most of those associates weren’t on the guest list.  
  
Graves is annoyed enough already about who is but he might have had the seedier types escorted home before entering the venue purely due to safety reasons. His father knew that much at least.  
  
There’s such hate in him when he speaks about anyone beyond those he means to impress with this and Graves finds his anger bleeding away.  
  
Silas Graves is an old, bitter man who desires control and ensuring people are as unhappy in life as he is. Graves and Eliza managed to escape him, managed to escape becoming like him, and he looks at his sister who seems to be thinking along the same lines as she peers at their father with a troubled frown.  
  
Mary Lou Barebone is of the same ilk and Graves isn’t entirely sure who carries the most evil. They favor making their children fear them and doling out punishment, physical and otherwise. Still, there’s a certain lifelessness to Mary Lou’s eyes that speaks of someone who has embraced her hatred for everyone else so thoroughly she believes she’s right in it.  
  
Silas delights in it, delights in knowing people push back against his hate even if they have no means to escape it, but Mary Lou would rather twist people to fear her so much they fall into line or become like her.  
  
Graves is all too eager to leave her with little power after this.  
  
Eliza and Kylan leave to find their seats and Graves prepares to leave with his father who is escorting him to his place under a quartz raven.  
  
When they’re told to go by the planner, Graves crosses the grounds with Silas and sees rows upon rows of chairs have been filled with guests. So many familiar faces and so many not. His colleagues and guests offer smiles, some cheerful because they don’t know what’s occurred to make this possible today.  
  
There are the ugly, sneering faces of Pureblood families he rarely interacts with unless he’s arresting or questioning one of them, which is likely why they look so hateful or vindictive.  
  
“Percival,” Silas says now that the crowd is hushed and music is being played louder, “if you make a farce of this evening there will be consequences.”  
  
Graves smiles as he stops next to his father in front of the quartz statue. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m glad to marry Credence.”  
  
“Yes, such allies you’ve become,” Silas says softly. “He’ll face the consequences as much as you will all the same.”  
  
Graves faces his father. “Threats aren’t necessary. Look at where we stand,” he says and offers his hand. “You’ve won, haven’t you?”  
  
Silas smiles and takes Graves’ hand, shaking it firmly. He turns on his heel and finds his seat in the front row, a mere twenty feet away. Graves takes his place under the raven and adjusts his cuffs as he glances at the officiator.  
  
“Congratulations, young man,” Aron Oliver says in his usual somber way.  
  
“Thank you, Mister Oliver. I am a lucky man,” Graves says and looks at the end of the aisle.  
  
Credence’s sisters are walking arm in arm, chins held high, but they are as pale as Credence. Credence follows, his mother on his arm, and Graves can’t wait for the day she never touches him again.  
  
They stop and exchange a few short words, no doubt as inspirational and supportive as Silas’ words were to Graves before Credence is free to join him.  
  
Graves holds out his hand and Credence takes it and he smiles then. He’s afraid and he’s tired but he’s facing this with a smile and Graves thinks he’s certainly the braver of the two of them.  
  
“Just keep looking at me, love,” Graves says quietly when Mister Oliver magnifies his voice and begins the ceremony, which means a lot of droning on and on before their part in it. “It’ll be done before we know it.”  
  
“I’ll be a Graves when it is,” Credence says with a faint smile.  
  
“And the worst of it will be over,” Graves says with an amused smile. “No more toeing the line of unceremonious death.”  
  
“That we know of,” Credence laughs. “Are you sure we can’t leave early?”  
  
“After walking through those schedules about a dozen times I feel obligated to go through with it, honestly,” Graves says and smiles when Credence grins. “You know what I like about you, Credence?”  
  
“Everything?”  
  
“...yes, but I’m talking about specifics.”  
  
Credence grins cheekily. “What do you like about me, Director Graves?”  
  
“That the first thing I learned about you, the real you, was that you had a spine of steel,” Graves says. “Don’t make that face. You reminded me of things I had sadly forgotten on more than one occasion and you did it in a way very few would have. I am still endlessly impressed when I think about it.”  
  
Credence is smiling, his cheeks pink and his eyes soft. “It takes a lot for a man to set his ego aside and realize someone else is right and to apologize for being wrong, you know.”  
  
“I do know and it’s a very large ego,” Graves says. “So it was doubly difficult for me. Entirely worth it though and I hope you continue teaching me humility because you make me a better person for it. You want to know the second thing I noticed about the real you?”  
  
“Tell me,” Credence says, his smile broad and more genuine than it’s been in a while.  
  
“That right there. Your smile,” Graves says and sighs. “That beautiful fucking smile. I know how lucky I am that I get to see it nearly every day.”  
  
“Every day after tonight,” Credence says softly. “And I get to see yours.”  
  
Graves smiles. “Not such a bad deal for either of us,” he says and lifts Credence’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “I could go on. I will go on one day, maybe tonight, maybe at a warmer wedding than this one, if you want it. But there are so many things about you, Credence, that I like. That I love. I’m honored that I get to see you, the real you, and that you gave me that honor.”  
  
Credence bites his lip and his eyes are bright, a little red, but he’s still smiling. “I think I’ve told you before, Percy,” he says, “but I’m glad it was you.”  
  
“And I’m glad it was you, love.”  
  
Oliver clears his throat loudly before addressing them.  
  
The ceremony is not as long as it would normally be, considering Graves and Credence have been forbidden from, Merlin forbid, speaking fondly about each other in front of everyone. But that’s alright because they’ve told each other and Credence looks happier now, keeps looking at Graves even when Oliver addresses him, and he answers shortly.  
  
Graves answers just as shortly because their voices aren’t magnified and no one has to hear them. He keeps holding Credence’s hand and he knows it’s not something that’s usually done, such a formal, dignified affair, but he doesn’t care what any of these people think of him.  
  
He loves Credence and he’d shout that from the rooftops if Credence wouldn’t die from embarrassment.  
  
Credence becomes a Graves and he smiles when he does. When they’ve been declared married, husband and husband, there’s loud applause, but it’s only cheerful from a small place. It’s a cold and clinical sort of applause and Graves wonders what sort of wedding Credence might want.  
  
Something on a beach somewhere, maybe, or in a forest. Someone’s backyard, even. Not surrounded by gardens that he might normally love but that are decorated the way these are.  
  
When they’ve got a raven and a shrake hanging above them, unnecessarily ominous but something to laugh about later.  
  
Graves kisses Credence and he does keep it brief, for Credence’s sake more than decorum, and they face their guests and smile at the ones who matter.  
  
Silas and Mary Lou meet them and they walk down the aisle to more applause but the night is really only just beginning.  
  
They have to endure standing near the entrance of the massive pavilion that tables are under, black and silver lanterns bobbing throughout it, the baubles on centerpieces gently glowing, as the sun is beginning to set.  
  
It’s so they can shake their guests’ hands and thank them for coming. Some of them remember to congratulate Credence and Graves, mostly his colleagues and friends, along with other important people that respect Graves for who he is, for what he does, and Credence as an extension.  
  
Everyone is polite and that might have to do with the numerous Aurors standing on either side of the pathway, but it makes it easier to get through.  
  
They both get long hugs from Tina, Queenie and Juliette, and Credence glances at Graves after.  
  
“Who was she?” he asks breathlessly. “Have I met her already?”  
  
Graves laughs as he shakes Mister Russell’s hand, head of Magical Transportation, and thanks him for coming. “No, you have not,” he says. “Old friend. I’ll tell you all about her later on.”  
  
“I’m not going to remember anyone,” Credence mutters under his breath and thanks Mister Russell’s wife with a smile that’s more of a grimace.  
  
“It’s a good thing I remember everyone,” Graves says and pats Credence’s back.  
  
It takes a long, long time to get through everyone but once the last of the guests are under the pavilion and seated, they’re able to take their own place at their table.  
  
The smell of food is wafting through the air, homey, baked chicken and rich filet mignon, both served with choice of potato and a medley of sweet glazed vegetables tossed with pecans.  
  
A menu Graves couldn’t find anything to complain about and as soon as they’re seated, Silas and Mary Lou give a brief champagne toast after their glasses fill with bubbling pale gold champagne.  
  
They all have an appetite, it’s hard not to after a day like today, and Graves gladly eats dinner and drinks champagne. Credence drinks his own, as much as Graves would have liked to take it for himself, but he doesn’t blame Credence for needing something to soothe his nerves.  
  
Their table is at the end of the pavilion, set before a few steps that lead up to a longer one, where speeches will be given and gifts will be received, but Graves is glad for the round one they sit at now because he’s between Credence and Eliza and his father is across the table and wouldn’t deign to raise his voice to speak with them.  
  
“What did Miss Goldstein have to say?” Graves asks Eliza.  
  
“No other blood rituals,” Eliza says with a smile. “I believe his exact words were - and this is according to Queenie after she mentioned no other blood magic allowing for similar things - _and aren’t you all lucky for that, you charlatan.”_  
  
Credence chokes a little on his champagne and coughs. “Oh, Merlin,” he mutters. “That’s awful.”  
  
Eliza laughs. “I think Queenie would disagree. She said she wanted to tell him to try harder and impress her, but Percy forbade her from letting him know about her talents. She and Tina were setting off giggles throughout the entire ceremony because of it. You two seemed to be distracted yourselves.”  
  
“Confessing our undying love for each other,” Credence says with a smile. “We think we want to take you up on your offer. Maybe after some time goes by anyway, we need to recover from this one.”  
  
Eliza laughs. “Just tell me when and I’ll get it done.”  
  
“We’ll get it done,” Kylan says. “She’ll lose her head without my help.”  
  
“True,” Eliza says. “That is why you run my stores for me.”  
  
Graves smiles and looks at Credence. “Looks like we know we aren’t bound to anything else, Mister Graves.”  
  
“I am still very much brewing that potion tonight, Mister Graves,” Credence says. “Or I won’t sleep at all.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “Fair enough,” he says and rubs Credence’s thigh. “I’ll have a glass of whiskey since I can’t indulge here and watch you work.”  
  
Credence huffs. “That’s not even impressive work. It’s one of the easiest potions out there.”  
  
“You’re right,” Graves says. “Impress me with Living Death or Wolfsbane one of these days.”  
  
“I’ll impress you with ones you’ve never heard of,” Credence says and shrugs when Graves raises an eyebrow. “I’ve made a few of my own.”  
  
“Shit,” Graves laughs. “When did you find the time for that?”  
  
“Ilvermorny and sometimes at the brownstone,” Credence says and shrugs. “I’ll probably introduce them to my new coworkers in a couple weeks. They might prove useful.”  
  
“More impressive by the day, love,” Graves sighs. “You brilliant, brilliant man.”  
  
Credence digs his elbow into Graves’. “Only with Potions.”  
  
“No, no,” Kylan says, leaning around Eliza. “In just about everything as we are all quickly learning.”  
  
“You two fit so well together. The analytical brain and the artistic one,” Eliza says. “You pair perfectly.”  
  
Credence’s cheeks are pink and he sips some champagne. “Thank you,” he mumbles.  
  
Graves chuckles. “An unexpected surprise for us all,” he says and leans back, done with dinner and, sadly, his champagne. He glances at a few of his Aurors, as he’s scheduled to do about every fifteen minutes, and gets an all-clear from them. “We have ten minutes before speeches start.”  
  
“I wonder what the papers will say about the lack of any speeches from you two,” Eliza says. “The speculation.”  
  
“A risk they had to take, unfortunately,” Graves says. “Merlin forbid we spill their villainy when it would have likely only been me embarrassing Credence with how much I like him in front of well over two hundred people.”  
  
“I don’t think I would have survived,” Credence agrees and smiles when Chastity giggles at his side.  
  
The girls are a little too close to their hawk-eyed mother to be anything but proper, but Modesty and Chastity do grin at them, which is enough.  
  
When Silas stands from the table with Mary Lou and they walk up the steps toward the long table, conversations and laughter throughout the pavilion quiet down.  
  
They both give speeches, dull and unsurprising, as will a few prominent members of Pureblood families that are familiar with Graves’ own who speak about their families and not Graves or Credence. Silas and Mary Lou had graciously allowed Graves and Credence to choose someone they are close to, an upstanding citizen, and only upon approval of a speech. Couldn’t make it look like Graves and Credence have absolutely no friends at all.  
  
Eldora is not someone Silas knows but she is immensely charming, witty and complimentary when she wants to be. When she’d volunteered, Graves had been all too happy to let her write a speech. She knows him as well as Fontaine does and even the most snobby in the room will find her likable and her humor warm.  
  
Graves has read the speech and it’s a perfect one, filled with as much fondness for Credence as for Graves, and numerous compliments for the Graves and Barebone family to ensure it was approved.  
  
It comes as no surprise to Graves, who has a fresh glass of champagne, that when Eldora gives the last speech, she goes wildly off-script.  
  
She’s still charming, witty and warm, but any complimentary comments about the Graves or Barebone family as a whole are entirely omitted. She says kind things about Eliza and Kylan, about Credence and mentions his darling sisters, which puts a blush on their cheeks, but she avoids speaking about them in more detail, lest their mother gets the idea they were involved with a stranger’s speech.  
  
Eldora talks about personal experiences that make everyone laugh with genuine amusement, Graves more so, remembering razing Manhattan when they were in their twenties, and he’s fairly sure he can hear Fontaine guffawing not far away.  
  
She welcomes Credence to their own little family with open arms at the end of her speech and gets a rousing applause.  
  
“My lovelies!” Eldora says as she stops at their table to kiss their cheeks. “I have never seen two such handsome men in all my life. Tell Theo I said so.” She pats their shoulders. “We’ll see you in a while for some dancin’, huh? Eliza, honey, you and I have so much to catch up on.”  
  
“We do,” Eliza agrees with a laugh. “Meet us at the bar as soon as the first dances are over.”  
  
“Where else!” Eldora laughs as she walks away.  
  
Graves takes a drink of his champagne and catches his father’s eye, not at all pleased, nor is Mary Lou. But it was an insult meant only for them, not one anyone else knows of, and Graves raises his glass to them.  
  
When the lights dim and soft music begins to play, Graves stands and holds out his hand to Credence. Credence looks like he’s regretting his dinner but he gamely takes Graves’ hand and joins him on the large space that’s been set aside for dancing. It’s a slow waltz, as every first dance is.  
  
“It’s not going as terribly as I thought it would be,” Credence says softly, keeping his eyes on Graves’. “Though we haven’t started our thirteen and sixteen and eleven minute conversations with different people.”  
  
Graves laughs. “We haven’t. Those will be torture, I’m sorry to say, and I’m sorry we’ll be apart for them,” he sighs. “You’ll do alright. You’ve been doing perfectly, Credence.”  
  
“I might vomit on your shoes,” Credence warns. “But you tend to make things a lot easier for me, you know.”  
  
Graves smiles and squeezes Credence’s hip. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says. “I hope that’s a trend I can keep up.”  
  
“You will. It’s built in you and I don’t think you even notice. Sera says you’ve been that way since she met you,” Credence says and smiles. “A comforting presence if you’re lucky enough to be close to him, that’s what she said.”  
  
“That was very kind of her,” Graves laughs. “Not at all what I’ve aimed for, but as long as it’s only for those I’m close to.”  
  
“It is,” Credence says. “Don’t worry, you’re the jackass you’ve aimed to be with everyone else.”  
  
Graves laughs more and shakes his head. “Stop spending time with Eliza,” he says and smiles when Credence grins. He kisses Credence’s cheek before he twirls him away and brings him back again. “Who have you been practicing with?”  
  
“Queenie,” Credence says breathlessly. “She’s a good dancer, you know.”  
  
“I’m sure she is. A woman of many, many talents,” Graves says dryly. “You just had to make friends with them.”  
  
“Maybe you shouldn’t have told Queenie so much about me,” Credence says with a smile. “Didn’t you tell me you wanted me to make friends?”  
  
“I did,” Graves says. “And I have resigned myself to the fact that I will have to keep getting fonder of the Goldsteins. Queenie is doing some stealth work for me tonight.”  
  
“She told me,” Credence laughs. “She said it’s the biggest benefit of working in the WPO.”  
  
“MACUSA’s greatest weapon should be kept secret,” Graves says and winks. The song ends then in a dramatic fashion and Graves kisses Credence’s hand. “Unfortunately, love, I have promised my second dance to someone else.”  
  
Credence sighs. “I know,” he says. “Don’t worry, Eliza told me she’d take this one with me.”  
  
Graves smiles and looks at Eliza as she walks to them, holding Modesty’s hand tight in hers.  
  
Graves offers his and Modesty smiles, nervous, and takes it. “Put your shoes on mine,” he says as the music begins to play again. “Trust me,” he adds when she frowns. “I don’t mind if you scuff them.”  
  
Modesty giggles a little and does so and it’s easy to lead her through the steps Graves knows so well.  
  
“You are the best one on the floor, Modesty,” Graves tells her when other people begin to join them.  
  
Modesty laughs. “I think Credence would’ve liked this way too,” she says and grins when Eliza laughs next to them and Credence groans.  
  
“He would have broken all ten of my toes, but I think you’re entirely right,” Graves chuckles.  
  
When the song ends, all too quickly for Graves’ liking, because he’s likely going to have to dance with people he has a strong dislike for, he takes Eliza’s hand and Credence takes Modesty’s.  
  
“If you drove that heel into my foot I would thank you for it,” Graves says. “I did not sign up for dancing with the Devil tonight.”  
  
Eliza chuckles. “No,” she agrees. “But sometimes you have to. Chastity is next. They’re such sweet girls. And Credence is such a sweet man. It’s a wonder, isn’t it?”  
  
“I think you know how much we all fought tooth and nail to be the opposite of them,” Graves says. “We’re all fortunate that Credence is older than them. He’s part of the reason they’re still clinging to their humanity.”  
  
“They’ll embrace it once they can,” Eliza says with a soft smile. “Are you ready to have a full household?”  
  
“I am actually. Been ready for a while, in fact,” Graves says. “Blindsided by the blood magic and my willingness for those things both.”  
  
Eliza smiles and shakes her head. “We were never meant for children,” she says. “I suppose that was just our own.”  
  
“I will be asking you to babysit regularly.”  
  
“Oh, joy,” Eliza laughs. “Kylan will like that.”  
  
“He did raise about a dozen siblings himself,” Graves sighs. “Thank you, old lady. I would not have gotten through this without you.”  
  
“Sure you would have,” Eliza says. “But you’re welcome, kiddo. Treat that man well.”  
  
“Planning on it,” Graves says with a smile and finishes the dance with his sister.  
  
Graves invites Chastity to join him and she does, as nervous and fidgety as Credence can be. She stares at his shoulder and occasionally smiles and laughs, but he doesn’t force her into too much conversation.  
  
She’s sixteen years old, one year away from adulthood and this has already changed her life. And she’s probably desperately counting the days back to Ilvermorny, just six now, and Graves doesn’t blame her in the slightest.  
  
She’ll be seeing them before she knows it and Graves can only hope it won’t be such a disastrous day.  
  
Mary Lou Barebone dances with poise and yet somehow manages to be immensely stiff. They exchange a few words, none of them particularly pleasant, but no one around them hears. When Graves is free of her, he tells Credence he is fortunate Silas didn’t expect a dance with him, which only serves to make Credence look more green, but Eldora manages to distract him well enough.  
  
Graves dances with colleagues and Queenie, who tells him Tina will hold a grudge for life if he asks for a dance, making Graves laugh for a while. He dances with less pleasant people that he can’t say no to, women he’s known since he was a child, old and young, all from Pureblood families that Graves hopes die out one day like his own.  
  
“There were so many rumors about you and Seraphina,” Miss Arbutus says in a voice that seems to have only gotten higher since they graduated from Ilvermorny in the same year. “And then so many other rumors when you never asked her to marry you.”  
  
“The Madam President and I share a strictly professional relationship,” Graves says. “I didn’t take you for the type to entertain rumors, Miss Arbutus. It is still Miss Arbutus, isn’t it?”  
  
She thins her already thin lips. “My own engagement didn’t quite work out like this one,” she says. “Arranged, wasn’t it? I can’t believe you let it happen, Percival.”  
  
“Director Graves, if you don’t mind,” Graves says. “I did work so hard for my title. These arranged marriages are simply a part of life for us, wouldn’t you agree?”  
  
“I would,” she says. “It’s only that you seem so close already to Mister Barebone.”  
  
“Mister Graves, if you don’t mind,” Graves says and smiles when she glares at him. “It would make marrying him fairly awkward if we weren’t close. I love my husband. I suppose that makes me an outlier.”  
  
“It does,” Miss Arbutus says sweetly. “One wonders how it came to be that you got so lucky with such a handsome man.”  
  
“No-majs call it fate,” Graves says. “I tend to think magic simply behaves strangely sometimes.”  
  
“Strangely, yes,” she says. “So very strangely. My mother is eager to speak with him. We hardly knew there were any Barebones left before the announcement.”  
  
“Hiding in plain sight,” Graves says. “In the very heart of Manhattan.”  
  
She narrows her eyes. “Thank you for the dance, Director Graves,” she says when the song fades and another starts. “Will you give my mother the honor of one?”  
  
Graves looks at his watch. “Can’t, I’m afraid. Can you believe I have to work during my own wedding?” he says and smiles. “The things I do to keep the people I love safe.”  
  
He walks away from her and finds his Captains sitting at a table together with Eldora and Queenie.  
  
“Anything?” Graves asks them.  
  
“Miss Goldstein has me thinking about opening eleven investigations,” Fontaine grouses. “And we’ve still got an hour or two to go.”  
  
“Good work, Miss Goldstein,” Graves says with a smirk when she grins. “And I thoroughly apologize for whatever horrors you’ve heard.”  
  
“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t heard before, really,” Queenie shrugs.  
  
“You’ve been hiding her all this time from me. And why? For what reason?” Eldora asks Fontaine.  
  
“Because the last thing this world needs is two women holding the power of everyone in New York’s dirty fucking secrets,” Fontaine says as he pulls out a list and hands it to Graves.  
  
“All the cases we could’ve been helpin’ to solve,” Queenie sighs, leaning against Eldora. “Can’t you hire us as informants?”  
  
Jauncey laughs. “I’m for it. How about it, Theo?”  
  
“The day my wife becomes an informant for the Auror department is the day I retire,” Fontaine says dryly. “Miss Goldstein already informs her sister of anything that should be brought to our attention.”  
  
“And do you pay her for it?” Eldora asks.  
  
Barrows laughs. “Do we? I’m genuinely curious if Miss Goldstein is on both payrolls.”  
  
“A girl would find a better apartment than the one she’s got if she was,” Queenie says. “But that’s alright with me, honey. I’ll leave the real work to Teenie.”  
  
“See?” Fontaine says to his wife. “Are you satisfied?”  
  
“Have you asked me to dance tonight? Do I seem satisfied?” Eldora asks him and Fontaine sighs and stands, offering his hand. “I’ll put you back in your suit if you bust out of it, don’t worry.”  
  
Graves leans against Barrows’ chair as he laughs. “You know that’s why he’s been avoiding it,” he says to Jauncey and Barrows while they snicker. “Fuck,” he sighs and wipes his eyes as he looks down at the list Fontaine gave him. “Alright, get on those top two tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”  
  
“Will do, Percy,” Jauncey says with a smirk as she takes the list from him. “Go rescue your husband. He looks like he needs it.”  
  
Graves looks across the tables and sees that Credence has escaped the clutches of anyone trying to rope him into dancing and is heading for the bar, which is probably not a good sign.  
  
Tina is with Modesty and Chastity at another table, keeping them entertained with Eliza.  
  
He walks to the bar and smiles shortly at anyone who feels the need to congratulate him and Credence looks at him, relieved.  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” he says. “I stepped on Missus Arbutus’ toes twice.”  
  
Graves tries not to laugh. “Then you did me a favor,” he says and smiles when Credence frowns irritably. “It’s alright, love. I promise you that she deserved it.”  
  
Credence takes the cherry rum the bartender gives him and they wander away to a quiet corner. “What’s next? I can’t even remember,” he sighs. “Is it dessert?”  
  
“We are already late on various conversations we’re supposed to be having,” Graves says and shrugs when Credence gapes at him. “But we should get to them. Find… Hannah, I think her name is, and she’ll tell you where to go. Gifts after that, champagne and dessert, and we’re done.”  
  
“Merlin, I hope so,” Credence says. “I can’t remember what Hannah looks like.”  
  
Graves laughs and kisses Credence because he is in love with the wonderful man he is and he is the only reason Graves can smile today. “She’s got a clipboard in the air next to her. Over there. Go on, love, it’ll be fine.”  
  
“Alright,” Credence says and takes a long drink of the cherry rum before handing the rest to Graves. “See you in a bit.”  
  
Graves smiles and watches him go. He finishes the rum and finds his father in conversation with Missus Arbutus, a good enough place to start, and begins his forty minutes or so of excruciating conversation pretending to care about what’s been happening in various family’s lives.  
  
But he’s charming when he needs to be because there are numerous families in attendance and it’s always a good thing for him when they let their mouths run a little too much.  
  
The moon is rising higher in the sky and Graves is glad to see it, stars twinkling above, and knows the night is nearing completion. He feels like he woke up two mornings ago, but it’s gone by quicker than they were all likely expecting.  
  
They’re called to the long table set above the rest of the pavilion to receive gifts and this is an event that will be heavily photographed. Graves and Credence get the honor of sitting in the middle of the table but their parents are directly next to either of them, which means none of this will be entertaining.  
  
They receive traditional gifts given at weddings, decorations and symbolic pieces of unity, along with various other things, books from the people who know Graves best. Eliza and Queenie give them two new plants that grow from the same roots but split into two as they grow, another symbolic sort of thing but one Credence will actually enjoy.  
  
Tina gives them a stack of beautifully bound books, something Graves will enjoy as much as Credence enjoys the plants.  
  
Missus Arbutus gives them a golden secrecy sensor, probably ludicrously expensive, and her smile suggests it’s meant to be an insult. That Graves and Credence, by extension, might need help detecting concealment and lies.  
  
“A secrecy sensor,” Graves says to Credence as he frowns at it. “Auror departments are familiar with them. Overflowing from drawers, really. I guess I won’t have to steal one from the office now,” he adds with a smile at Missus Arbutus.  
  
There are chuckles around the pavilion and her smile has disappeared. She nods stiffly when they thank her and Graves taps the secrecy sensor to disable it before he can bring it to the office and take it apart.  
  
It’s taken by one of the planners and they receive a few more gifts, strange in the way that Pureblood families are strange. Mary Lou and Silas have apparently foregone gifts of their own and would likely say the wedding was their gift, so neither Credence nor Graves will give them the opportunity.  
  
“We have a couple gifts of our own to give, don’t we?” Graves asks Credence.  
  
Credence smiles. “We do,” he says. “Is it time?”  
  
“It absolutely is,” Graves says and kisses Credence’s cheek. He stands and offers his hand, leading him around the table to stand in front of their parents.  
  
Hannah - at least Graves is fairly sure that’s her name - brings the first gift out with levitation, wrapped in shimmering golden cloth, and Credence takes it from her. He puts it on the table in front of Silas. He pulls off the fabric and Silas’ eyebrows raise.  
  
A dark stone Sphinx, nearly a foot and a half tall, a magical creature Silas is fond of considering his own marble statues of them in the courtyard of the manor.  
  
“She’ll only respond to your touch,” Credence says with a faint smile.  
  
Silas peers at him before he looks at the Sphinx, which has been carved into exquisite detail. He touches one of her paws and her tail flicks, which draws a gasp from their guests. She shakes her mane then and looks up at Silas.  
  
“Ah,” he says and smiles, pleased. “She’ll speak in riddles. Hopefully no devouring if I should get it wrong.”  
  
There are chuckles to this and Credence smiles.  
  
“You won’t get it wrong, Mister Graves.”  
  
Silas stares at Credence for a moment and doesn’t look so pleased anymore. He looks down at the Sphinx, who is patiently waiting for him, flicking her tail occasionally.  
  
“Let’s have one then.”  
  
The Sphinx smiles and when she speaks, her voice is clear and tinkles with mischievous joy,  
  
 _“Honor and strength flow through the blood_ _  
__  
__And honor keeps the name standing tall_ _  
__  
__But one among all others did honor touch most of all.”_  
  
Silas chuckles and Graves sees he’s relieved. Expecting the worst from them and relieved he hasn’t received it.  
  
“Honora Graves,” Silas answers.  
  
The Sphinx smiles broadly and bows her head.  
  
Guests applaud cheerfully and Silas smiles. “My great aunt and it’s no surprise what Honora was named after.”  
  
Credence smiles. “Percy’s told me she was a great woman,” he says. “So much like yourself, Mister Graves.”  
  
Silas’ smile remains but his eyes have gone sharp, dangerous to those sitting nearest, and Graves smiles, feeling terribly proud of Credence for meeting that gaze head-on.  
  
Honora Graves was very similar to Silas in that she was a ruthless businesswoman and the exact opposite of what Graves has strived to be in his life. And he’s made his opinion known about his least-liked relatives and ancestors. If he’d known Honora in her life, he would have been glad to arrest her, and when Silas turns a tight smile on him, Graves knows he’s thinking something along the same lines.  
  
“Another!” someone shouts and the guests laugh and cheer.  
  
“She’s charmed for many,” Credence says. “Please try another.”  
  
Silas clearly doesn’t want to but he wouldn’t dare insult Credence. He looks at the Sphinx and nods. “Yes, another, if you would.”  
  
She smiles and says,  
  
 _“Old the name,_ _  
__  
__young the blood,_ _  
__  
__strong the will,_ _  
__  
__weak the mind is not.”_  
  
It’s quiet as Silas stares down at the Sphinx. He smiles crookedly and looks at Credence.  
  
“Credence Graves, of course.”  
  
She smiles and bows her head and their guests cheer and applaud, far louder this time. Graves looks at Mary Lou, who isn’t bothering to smile, staring at her son as if she wishes she could get him alone and tell him how appreciated his gift of honor is.  
  
Graves has eyes on the Barebone home already and ears inside too and will do what’s necessary if she forgets her place with her daughters.  
  
“Another one?” Credence asks with a smile.  
  
“Oh, I think that’s enough for now,” Silas chuckles. “Truly fantastic work. I have a few ideas where the charm work might have come from.” He looks down the table at Eliza, who smiles and raises her glass of wine to more cheers.  
  
“She’s been made unbreakable,” Credence says. “She’d make a handsome piece on your desk at the manor and there are plenty of riddles to solve still.”  
  
“Thank you, Credence,” Silas says. “An extraordinary gift to honor the Graves family name.” He gestures at it and Hannah hurries over, using her wand to take the Sphinx from the table.  
  
She comes back with another gift, broader and taller, draped in the same golden cloth, and gives it to Graves. He puts it on the table in front of Mary Lou and removes the material, smiling at her. She looks at the gift and at him and her lips hardly twitch.  
  
“Unbendable and unbreakable,” Graves says. “That’s what I’ve come to learn about your great family, Mary Lou. This is an Australian Buloke tree, charmed to grow small, in petrified and glazed wood from the same tree.”  
  
A tree sits in dry soil and dirt, a foot tall, the pot it sits in artfully stacked slabs of petrified and glazed golden pieces of the buloke tree. It’s stunning, really, but Mary Lou Barebone does not appreciate things that grow.  
  
“This tree boasts the strongest wood in the world,” Graves says. “It can’t be damaged and will live as long as the Barebone family lives. It flowers when the family is flourishing,” he adds and gestures at tiny white flowers dotting the tree, which has four distinctive branches. “What better day to watch it flower than a Barebone wedding?”  
  
“How beautiful,” Mary Lou says softly. “And so clever. It’s lovely to see us represented in the tree branches.”  
  
“An additional branch will grow every time a Barebone is born,” Graves says and Mary Lou’s eyes move slowly to his. He stares back at her and smiles. “I imagine this tree will only get stronger as your family flourishes. I’m honored that I’m a part of it and look forward to all growth and strides our unbreakable families will take.”  
  
More applause and cheers, some of it hesitant as various Pureblood families try to recall if there are other Barebones in attendance or perhaps elsewhere in the world. But most people don’t know Barebones have withered down to nothing, so like the Graves family has.  
  
The Barebone family won’t flourish like it once used to. Unbendable and unbreakable though they are, all four of them and Graves will see to it that remains true for Mary Lou’s children, Barebones are not long for this world.  
  
Their precious respect and relevancy are not long for this world.  
  
“Thank you, Percival. What a thoughtful gift,” Mary Lou says. “Something to treasure.”  
  
“I admire your strength,” Graves says quietly as their guests clap again. “The botany department in MACUSA didn’t particularly understand why I was looking for the strongest wood in the world but it should give them a laugh tomorrow when they read the paper.”  
  
Mary Lou smiles still. “An amusing anecdote for them,” she agrees.  
  
Once Hannah has taken the tree away, Graves takes Credence’s hand and smiles. “I think that another champagne toast and dessert is in order,” he says. “Anyone else agree?”  
  
The laughs and cheers make Graves’ skin crawl as much as they likely do the same to Silas and Mary Lou, but maybe they’re beginning to see their mistake.  
  
If not, Graves and Credence will gladly continue showing them.  
  
Most of their guests are no longer sitting at their assigned tables, except for certain families, and Graves and Credence join their friends and the family that matters as new champagne glasses on tables refill.  
  
Eliza and Kylan, Tina and Juliette and Queenie, Eldora and Fontaine, and the Graves’.  
  
Graves would prefer for Chastity and Modesty to join them. It’s not worth risking their mother’s anger, but he fully intends on reminding her tonight why that would be her worst mistake.  
  
Graves takes off his bowtie and Credence follows and they drink champagne and eat delicate desserts, white cake and chocolate eclairs and macarons made at a French bakery in Midtown that Graves recognizes.  
  
“Walk me out, will you, Percy?” Juliette asks when she’s finished her champagne. “I’m afraid I’d like to avoid saying goodbye to either of those two demons.”  
  
Credence coughs a little and bites his lip, looking at Graves.  
  
Graves chuckles. “Of course, Juliette,” he says and stands. He offers his hand to Credence and he takes it with a frown.  
  
“I think I need a bit of fresh air, so if you don’t mind, I’ll join you,” Tina sighs and stands. She carries her shoes rather than putting them back on. “Queenie promised me I’d get used to them.”  
  
“I said you’d stop feelin’ your feet and it wouldn’t matter anymore,” Queenie says and flutters her hand with a grin at Juliette.  
  
“And I need to take a piss,” Fontaine says.  
  
“Just what everyone needs to hear at the end of this truly fantastic day,” Eldora says. “I apologize for him.”  
  
“I have heard far worse things come out of your mouth,” Graves says with a smirk and chuckles when Eldora winks. He leads Credence out of the pavilion and across the grounds, following Juliette and Tina.  
  
Credence sighs. “Alright, what’s going on?” he asks. “You’re all up to something.”  
  
“Don’t know what you mean,” Tina says cheerfully as they turn down an empty hallway between one section of the gardens and the next, four Aurors standing at their posts.  
  
Juliette fluffs her hair until she is no longer Juliette and Graves smiles when Credence jumps at his side.  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” he says breathlessly.  
  
Sera chuckles. “Sorry for the fright, Mister Graves,” she says with a smile. “I asked Percy not to tell you.”  
  
Credence gapes at Sera for a while. “Why?” he finally manages. “Erm… Madam President.”  
  
“Oh, stop,” Sera says and waves her hand before she pulls off her own high heels. “I told you to call me Sera weeks ago. And because that’s the unfortunate way of things, if we’re to follow the protocols and procedures your husband has put into place.”  
  
“Sorry, love,” Graves says. “When it comes to her safety, I do my job as it’s required of me.”  
  
“Oh,” Credence says and frowns. “Still.” He smiles, just a little, when Sera laughs. “What was tonight like for _you?”_  
  
“If it was any other wedding, I’d say utterly freeing,” Sera says. “But either way, I wasn’t going to miss you two wed, though I’ve been told we might have a second one.”  
  
“One that’s not so horrifying,” Graves says with a smile and kisses Sera’s forehead when she hugs him briefly. “Thanks for coming.”  
  
“Anything for you,” Sera says with some amusement and stands on her toes to kiss Credence’s cheeks. “Take care of yourself, Credence. I’m here if either of you needs me.”  
  
“Oh,” Credence croaks, his cheeks pink. “Thank you, Mad— Sera,” he amends hastily. “Thank you. Thank you for coming.”  
  
Sera smiles in amusement and nods before walking down the hall with her Aurors.  
  
Fontaine and Tina follow to see her safely off home.  
  
“You couldn’t have said anything?” Credence asks exasperatedly. “I asked her how you two knew each other and everything. We talked for fifteen minutes.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I truly could not, love, I’m sorry,” he says. “Not when we’re surrounded by these people. Don’t worry, she’ll be herself every other time we’re together. Most likely.”  
  
Credence rolls his eyes but he wraps his arms around Graves and slumps against him, resting his head on Graves’ shoulder. “Alright,” he sighs. “Can we go now too?”  
  
“Very shortly. Make a round thanking some people, including our wonderful parents, and we’re done. Schedules are finished.”  
  
“Do we even have to thank anyone then?”  
  
“Unfortunately,” Graves says and smiles as he rubs Credence’s back. “Can’t go ruining it now. Let’s get it over with.”  
  
Credence nods against his shoulder before he looks at Graves. When he leans in for a kiss, Graves is all too glad to give it to him.  
  
“You’ve done so well, Credence,” he says when they gently break apart. “Absolutely perfect.”  
  
Credence smiles tiredly. “I don’t know about perfect but I think I’m unscathed,” he says. “I only got through it because of you.”  
  
“Funny,” Graves sighs and takes Credence’s hand. “I only got through it because of you too.”  
  
They walk back toward the pavilion and Graves keeps Credence close as they thank a handful of tables for coming personally, mostly Graves’ colleagues in MACUSA and the only other people that matter.  
  
Mary Lou and Silas can’t ask them to stay any longer as this is the usual time a married couple leaves the venue and they’re standing near the end of the pavilion, in a quiet corner, waiting for them.  
  
Graves stops Credence once they’ve moved away from most people and squeezes his shoulders. “It’s alright now, love. Soon enough and we never have to see either of them again. Ready?”  
  
Credence smiles and his eyes are bright. “More than ready, Percy,” he says softly. “More than ready for it to be over for them and for it to begin for us.”  
  
Kissing Credence then isn’t a hard thing to do. Graves holds him close and Credence kisses back with just as much fierce passion and clearly doesn’t give a damn about anyone watching anymore. Their parents and the guests they don’t care for don’t matter now. They’ve survived this and Credence kisses Graves gently once more, like he’s thinking the same thing.  
  
Their walk to their parents. Mary Lou and her disappointment and Silas and his coldness. Their anger at a passionate kiss for all to see. Small, sad people in a big, forgetful world.  
  
“I suppose we couldn’t have expected you to respect tradition entirely,” Silas says. “The papers will enjoy the charade you put on not long ago.”  
  
“What charade? I entirely meant it when I said _I do,”_ Graves says. “You’re right that the papers will love this entire affair and the numerous pictures that came with it. You’ve gotten precisely what you wanted out of this.”  
  
“A shame it had to be done at all,” Silas says. “But I did warn you numerous times to find someone suitable of your own choosing.”  
  
“Just didn’t tell me drastic measures would be taken if I didn’t,” Graves says with a smile. “Not a problem, really, and I suppose I have you both to thank for that. Credence and I will be glad to share a household.”  
  
“Of course,” Mary Lou says. “A happy union was what we asked for and I trust that you will treat my son well.”  
  
Graves smiles. “Better than you ever have, Mary Lou,” he says. Anger briefly crosses her face, the most emotion Graves thinks he’s seen from her, and Credence’s hand tightens around his. “You did well in your interview, to tell the truth about Credence’s competency and to lie about the household he lived in. About his sisters’ happiness. I expect you to keep up that lie when no one is around.”  
  
“Percival,” Silas says. “Are you so arrogant to threaten her while the night isn’t finished for either of you?”  
  
“Oh, but it is,” Graves says and looks at his father. “It ended when Credence and I were officially wed, but we’ve kept up this bullshit to protect everyone’s reputation. You should thank us for that.”  
  
“Are you so sure you’re free?” Mary Lou asks softly.  
  
“Entirely,” Graves says and takes great pleasure in her anger. “So I have no qualms about warning either of you that I am the Director of Magical fucking Security and if either one of you steps a toe out of line, _you,_ most of all, Mary Lou, I will step in with all the power afforded to me. Touch either of those girls again and you will regret making this promise thirty years ago.”  
  
“Percival,” Silas says firmly.  
  
“If you want to keep what you’ve earned tonight,” Graves says and looks at his father, “you will not give me a reason to arrest you. We’ll be in touch shortly. And remember what I’ve told you,” he says to Mary Lou. “People are watching and listening. You’re very good at pretending to be perfect when they are and I would advise you to keep being good at it. Thank you both for this wonderful wedding. Good night.”  
  
“Good night, Ma,” Credence says simply but there’s a warning in his voice too and Graves feels a fierce sense of pride for it.  
  
He’s not sure if Credence has ever dared to warn his mother against harming his sisters but Mary Lou will take both of them seriously, whatever Silas decides to feed her. She’s smart enough for that and Silas is smart enough to know that he shouldn’t be too vocal after this.  
  
Graves and MACUSA will be watching.  
  
They leave the pavilion, the wedding and the madness, and as soon as Graves has spoken with Fontaine and Tina, who are waiting for them, they Disapparate away from it all.  
  
Credence grasps Graves’ jacket as soon as they’re in the alleyway outside of the apartment and stares, eyes wide and fearful, and Graves’ stomach tightens.  
  
“Credence,” he says quietly because this is what he’s been fearing. That Credence would look at him, look at their home and their new lives together differently. With fear.  
  
But Credence kisses him then and it’s not a gentle or easy thing, but something passionate, something filled with relief and something more.  
  
Graves can do nothing more but hold him and kiss him back and let himself feel the relief that Credence does.  
  
They stay in that alleyway for a while, embracing tightly, and Graves wipes a few tears off of Credence’s cheeks. He leads him upstairs after a while and when they step inside the apartment, Credence looks around.  
  
Graves pulls off his jacket and crisp white shirt, tossing them over the breakfast bar, and watches Credence warily.  
  
Credence sniffs and looks at Graves. “I’ve lived in that brownstone for as long as I can remember,” he says quietly. “And not one day did it ever feel like home. It’s been a long time of walking through a front door and dreading what I’d find on the other side.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Credence,” Graves says and he truly is. Will always be sorry for what Credence has experienced.  
  
“It’s alright,” Credence says and smiles. “I think I’m going to feel like I’m coming home every day now. And I get to come home to you, which is kind of nice.”  
  
Graves laughs, unable to help it, and moves closer, taking Credence’s cheeks in his hands. He kisses him, once, twice, before he pulls away. “Good,” he says, filled with a relief he doesn’t think he can express. “That’s the most I can ask for.”  
  
Credence smiles more widely and takes off his jacket and shirt. “I know it’s not going to be easy for a few more weeks,” he says. “But tonight I want to act like it is. After one more step anyway.”  
  
“Feel like brewing a potion?”  
  
Credence nods. “More than I’ve ever felt like brewing a potion.”  
  
Graves smiles and summons the ingredients from one of his kitchen cabinets. He transfigures the coffee table into a brewer’s table and gets Credence everything else he needs.  
  
“I think you deserve to be off your feet for a while,” Credence says. “Sit down and I’ll get this made.”  
  
“Alright, love,” Graves chuckles and rubs Credence’s arm. He moves to the sofa and sits down, taking his shoes off and tossing them aside. He does feel the aches and pain of today and Graves is more exhausted than he thinks he’s possibly ever been, but he can’t take his eyes off of Credence. He forgets whiskey entirely.  
  
Credence brews potions with an elegance Graves has never seen. He’s deft with ingredients and preparing them, it’s second nature to him and he doesn’t have to think about it. His movements are fluid, showing a deep knowledge of potions, and there’s not a hint of nervousness on his face, in his shoulders.  
  
This is what Credence loves, this is what he is a master at, and it reminds Graves of some of his best Aurors. The elegance in their wandwork, even when they’re in the field fighting for their lives, when spells come second nature.  
  
There are only a few of them in his department and he’s not entirely sure how rare it is to see talent such as Credence’s in the world of potions, but Graves could watch him work all damn day and never get bored.  
  
Credence smiles now and then like he might have an idea what Graves is thinking, but he doesn’t look at him until he stirs the potion three times, counter-clockwise, and sets the long metal stirrer aside.  
  
“Done,” he says softly.  
  
Graves smiles and stands. He moves next to Credence and looks down at the inky black potion, disturbingly still, blending in with the cauldron except for a slight sheen on the surface.  
  
Credence cleans the end of the small knife used to cut baneberries so no poisonous residue is left behind. He takes in a deep breath and cuts a small slice into the end of his finger. He holds it over the potion until three drops have fallen into it and Graves takes his hand, healing the cut while Credence stirs the potion once, clockwise.  
  
It remains black and settles shortly after the stir.  
  
Credence looks at Graves and his eyes are shining with tears. “Your turn,” he says. “And we’ll know for sure.”  
  
Graves smiles and takes the knife from Credence. He cuts the end of his finger and does the same, stirring the potion once his blood is in it, and when he removes the stirrer, it goes still and remains black.  
  
“Percy,” Credence says and his voice shakes. “Percy, it’s _done.”_ _  
_  
Graves vanishes the potion after healing himself and takes Credence into his arms. He’s weeping, gently so, and Graves’ eyes sting too.  
  
He’s relieved, yes, but he is still furious, incredibly furious that this is what Credence was forced into. Himself, yes, but his anger isn’t for himself. It’s easy for him to go back to pretending Silas doesn’t exist but Credence doesn’t get the same luxury. And he’s suffered for so long, suffered even more at the beginning of all of this, and Graves wishes he could bang down doors and make Mary Lou pay for it, an eye for an eye, but that’s something he’ll always keep to himself.  
  
They’ve got the ball rolling to ruin her and that’s not far away. They’ll ruin Silas too but it’ll take more time.  
  
Graves runs his fingers through Credence’s hair and kisses his neck. “Shh, love, it’s alright. It’s finished now,” he says. “Your sisters will be safe.”  
  
“Aurors will keep watching and listening?”  
  
“Of course they will,” Graves says. “They’ve been watching for longer than we’ve been getting along,” he adds with a chuckle. “They’ll be alright. Chastity will be in Ilvermorny in less than a week and Modesty will be with us shortly after.”  
  
Credence sniffles, clutching at Graves’ back. “Okay,” he whispers. “Thank you, Percy. Thank you for always thinking of them.”  
  
“Always will,” Graves sighs. “I don’t know about you but I’d like to wash this day off. Sleep it off too.”  
  
“Yeah,” Credence says and pulls back, brushing his cheeks off. “Me too.”  
  
“Do you want to join me?”  
  
Credence looks at Graves and bites his lip. “Yes,” he says and smiles. “Yes, I really would.”  
  
Graves smiles and takes Credence’s hand, leading him into his bedroom and bathroom.  
  
Getting out of their clothes is quick work and Graves thinks about saving them just so Anita can burn them, as he’s sure she was entirely serious about it.  
  
When the water is hot and they get in, their closeness isn’t about sex. It’s intimacy, one they both sorely need. It’s in the way they touch each other, staying close, washing each other’s hair and taking their time with soap that smells like clover. There are fewer kisses here but embraces plentiful.  
  
There are tears too, for it being over and for them coming out of it unscathed, but Graves sees that Credence was never destined to come out of his mother’s clutches unscathed. He sees the scars on his body and it makes him feel sick, it puts tears in his eyes to think about the marks on his bedroom floor and to see the same sort of marks on his back, but Credence kisses them away and whispers _soon._  
  
Mary Lou’s punishment will never be enough for Graves, but if it is for Credence, he’ll be glad to call it finished.  
  
They dry off slowly, more out of exhaustion than anything else, and Graves smiles after Credence has used his towel to dry his hair off, which makes it stick in about every direction.  
  
He’d be perfectly content seeing that every day for the rest of his life.  
  
They brush their teeth and Graves gets Credence a pair of pajama pants and pulls his own on. He walks to the bedroom door and with a wave of his hand, the lights turn off throughout the apartment and he closes the door.  
  
Credence has climbed into bed and Graves joins him and pulls him close. He kisses Credence and Credence kisses him, his fingers in Graves’ damp hair.  
  
Graves feared that Credence would walk inside of their apartment and still see a prison. He feared that Credence would look at him and see a new prison guard. But that’s not what Credence feels, that’s not how he’s looking at their home, and Graves is relieved.  
  
Immensely and wholly relieved.  
  
There’s still a pit in his stomach, not as wide, that tells him it won’t last.  
  
But Graves thinks that might be an old voice, too like his father’s, that followed him through his childhood and into his young adult life. The same feeling, the same voice that told him if he ever dared to hope for something good, the world would remind him how foolish it was to have hope at all.  
  
When Graves looks down at Credence and sees love and affection in his eyes, he thinks that’s a voice he needs to lay to rest. He smiles and kisses Credence once more before lying down next to him, their legs tangled together.  
  
Graves kisses Credence’s shoulder and sighs. “Let me know if you need a sleeping draught.”  
  
“I think I’ll be okay,” Credence says softly, holding gently onto Graves’ arm. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
“Thank you, Credence.”  
  
“I’m glad it was you,” Credence says and his voice shakes with that truth.  
  
Graves smiles and gently strokes his side. “I’m glad it was you too.”  
  
“Good night.”  
  
“Good night, love.”  
  
——  
  
Graves wakes abruptly in the morning when he feels movement next to him. He nearly jumps out of his skin, not used to it, but he manages to remember the entirety of the last five and a half months before he does.  
  
Credence is stretching next to him and his hand slides across Graves’ back and his lips touch his shoulder blade.  
  
Graves smiles and turns his head to look at Credence. It must be mid-morning, sunlight bright in the bedroom and touching Credence’s skin in a very pleasing way. He’s smiling too, his eyes still heavy with sleep, and Graves thinks he’s never seen a better sight.  
  
“Good morning, Mister Graves,” he says and shifts enough so he can wrap his arm around Credence’s waist and pull him closer.  
  
Credence grins. “Good morning, Mister Graves,” he says and leans in to press a soft kiss to Graves’ lips. “I think I’ll be okay with being called a Graves for the rest of my life.”  
  
“That’s good,” Graves says. “Because you’re stuck with it either way.” He smiles when Credence pinches his side. “Credence Graves. Has a nice ring to it. Almost as nice as Credence Graves looks in this bed.”  
  
“I was thinking Percy Graves looks pretty nice in this bed too,” Credence says with a wide smile, his cheeks faintly pink. “Do you always sleep on your stomach?”  
  
“Most of the time,” Graves chuckles. “If I’m comfortable enough.” He moves onto his side and props himself up on his elbow, running his hand along Credence’s side. “You look like you got some good sleep. Must’ve been comfortable enough too.”  
  
Credence nods. “I was,” he says. “Too exhausted to do anything but sleep.” He bites his lip and furrows his brow. “My sisters—”  
  
“Are perfectly fine,” Graves says. “I promise. Eyes and ears on that brownstone and if anything were even slightly suspicious, they’d tell me about it. I’ve made that clear to those on each shift. One toe out of line and I’m on her front doorstep. But we can go see them anytime you want.”  
  
“Alright,” Credence says and smiles. “Thank you, Percy. Maybe around lunch.” He moves his hand to Graves’ chest and down to his abdomen. “If you kissed me until then, I wouldn’t mind so much.”  
  
Graves laughs. “I can manage that,” he says. “We’ve got some time to make up for.” He gently pinches Credence’s chin and leans down to kiss him.  
  
Credence’s arms slide around his back and neck and he hums his approval. When Credence’s tongue slides across Graves’ lower lip, he is all too happy to deepen the kiss. They are certainly behind on this and yet Graves finds himself surprised when Credence rolls onto his back and tugs him closer, a clear goal in mind.  
  
They break apart until Graves is on top of him and he can kiss Credence again, not quite pressed chest to chest. Graves’ mind promptly goes to the gutter when Credence spreads his legs around him and hooks his ankles behind his thighs, and it’s made apparent that he’s been thinking about this since he woke Graves.  
  
Graves expected this might take some time. For Credence to show interest in this and for him to be comfortable with it both, but Credence is already there, his fingers tangled in Graves’ hair and his other skittering across his back until he gently grips at the pajama pants Graves is wearing, his thumb under the band.  
  
“Fuck,” Graves whispers when he pulls back and looks down at Credence. His eyes are dark and hooded and he doesn’t look the slightest bit nervous, which is good because Graves is. “Credence, we don’t have to rush this.”  
  
Credence huffs a little. “I know that, Percy,” he says. “But I’ve wanted it since before you first kissed me, so I don’t think we are. I want you. I wanted you last night but we were both too tired. If you might want me too, I’m more than ready.”  
  
Graves stares down at him and raises his eyebrows. “Well alright then,” he says and grins when Credence does. “Shit,” he mutters and shifts around until they’re pressed groin to groin and he feels Credence’s cock jump against his own, rapidly hardening. “What do you want from me, love?”  
  
“Everything,” Credence says and tips his head back. He closes his eyes and sighs with pleasure when Graves rocks against him. “I want to see you right now.”  
  
Graves leans in and kisses along Credence’s jaw and to his neck, perfectly masculine and anything but frail. He kisses down his collarbone and dips his tongue into the hollow of Credence’s throat before sucking a bruise against his skin.  
  
Credence’s soft, breathy moan is going to follow Graves, the first of many, hopefully. Graves moves down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his chest and to his stomach. He kisses Credence’s ribs until Credence’s abdomen jumps and he laughs, tugging at Graves hair.  
  
He smiles and looks up at Credence, who is watching him with a grin. “You are fucking stunning, you know,” Graves says and moves further down, pushing the sheets and comforter back.  
  
“Percy,” Credence says softly and bites his lip. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”  
  
Graves’ stomach swoops all over again and he smiles. Credence says it so genuinely and earnestly, and Graves is reminded all too well about what a genuine and sweet person he is.  
  
And he’s the lucky bastard that gets to call Credence his husband.  
  
“I’m glad you think so, love,” Graves says and kisses Credence’s stomach. He moves down to his hip, the bone a little too pronounced but they’ll work on that. Credence’s gasp is much more distracting. “Now look at that,” Graves sighs as he sits up just a bit and looks at the tented pajama bottoms. “I am a very lucky man.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Credence says and puts his hand against his red cheeks. He laughs when Graves does. “What am I then?”  
  
“A very generous man,” Graves says and hooks his fingers under the pajama pants, slowly pulling them down until Credence’s cock bobs free. “In more than one way. Fuck,” he sighs and helps Credence out of the pants. “Absolutely beautiful, Credence.”  
  
“Stop,” Credence complains, his ears red, but he’s grinning. “It’s been a while.”  
  
Graves smiles as he tosses the pants aside. “Been a while for me too,” he says and looks Credence up and down, shaking his head. “I’ve got to get you out of your clothes more often.”  
  
Credence laughs. “Yes, please, as often as you want,” he says and moves his fingers to Graves’ hair again, his touch gentle. “I said I wanted to see you.”  
  
“In a moment,” Graves says and leans closer to Credence’s cock. He’s long and flushed beautifully, the head of his cock brushing against his abdomen and leaving a small smear of precome.  
  
Graves slides his hands along the inside of Credence’s thighs until he shivers. He’s biting his lip when Graves looks at him and his eyebrows come together with pleasure when Graves wraps his hand around his cock. He slowly strokes him and watches Credence tilt his head back, his eyes fluttering shut.  
  
His cheeks are flushed and his nipples are hard, his stomach tightening when Graves strokes him and Graves thinks he could be done in alone by the way Credence looks right now.  
  
He has no idea how fucking beautiful he is and Graves plans on telling him every damn day.  
  
Credence moans when Graves licks the precome away. His fingers tighten in his hair and it’s not painful but encouraging. Graves smiles and watches Credence as he takes the head of his cock into his mouth, slowly so he can taste him and feel his weight against his tongue.  
  
“Oh,” Credence gasps, his back arching off of the bed. “Oh, Percy,” he whispers and looks down at Graves. He moans again and presses his arm against his forehead as if he can’t quite get over the sight either.  
  
Graves holds onto Credence’s hip and takes him in deeper. Credence moans a little more guttarly and doesn’t seem to mind Graves taking his time. It takes some adjusting to get comfortable, to remember exactly how to make this feel good.  
  
He moves up and down along Credence’s cock, listening to his gasps, his moans and his soft pleas. Graves strokes the base of Credence’s cock when he moves up and takes him deep when he goes back down and it’s not long before Credence’s moans become more desperate.  
  
“Percy!” Credence says and gasps. “Oh, fuck. That feels amazing. Percy, please.” His moan is high and hoarse when Graves groans around him. “Fuck, I don’t want to come like this.”  
  
Graves moves up and dips his tongue into the slit of Credence’s cock until he hisses and shivers from the sensitivity. Graves looks up at Credence when he lets him go, breathing deeply, and wipes his chin off.  
  
“How do you want to come, love?”  
  
Credence looks down at Graves and moans, covering his eyes for a moment. “Be quiet,” he pants when Graves laughs and looks at him again. “Merlin, Percy, you think I’m stunning? I could come just looking at you like this.”  
  
Graves smirks and slowly strokes Credence’s wet cock. “You want to? I’d be glad to feel you come down my throat, Credence,” he says and chuckles when Credence whines. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”  
  
“I know we do,” Credence says, still catching his breath. “But I want to come the way I’ve been thinking about for a while now.”  
  
“Oh?” Graves asks and kisses Credence’s hip. He drags his tongue along it until Credence is trembling and tugging at his hair. “Tell me, love.”  
  
“I want you inside of me,” Credence says breathlessly. “I want to feel you fucking me while I come.”  
  
Graves closes his eyes and presses his forehead against Credence’s thigh. He sighs a little shakily and looks up at Credence, who seems concerned, and smiles.  
  
“Just need to let that image settle in my mind for a moment,” he says and chuckles when Credence grins. “I’d love to be inside you, Credence. Feel you come around me.” He sits up on his knees and slides his hands along Credence’s thighs and to his hips, looking him over, spread out of the way he is. “You’re magnificent, Credence. Fuck, look at you.”  
  
Credence’s cheeks darken. “Let me see you too, Percy,” he says and his eyes are on Graves’ chest and stomach, the bulge in his pajamas. “Please.”  
  
“Alright, love,” Graves says and smiles. He pushes his pants down and when his cock springs free, Credence’s moan is encouraging. He kicks the pants off and leans over Credence, looking at his nightstand and holding his hand up until the drawer opens. A bottle of lube zooms into his hand and he looks down at Credence as he shakes it. “How do you want this?”  
  
“Just like this,” Credence. “On my back.” He slides his hands along Graves’ arms and to his sides and over his back, pulling him closer. “Percy, you’re gorgeous.”  
  
Graves smiles and leans down, kissing Credence. Their cocks slide together, drawing a moan from both of them, and Graves gladly lets Credence lead their kiss, all too happy to give him whatever the hell he could possibly want.  
  
Credence’s hands slide up and down along his back and he occasionally digs his fingers into his skin or drags his nails across it, something Graves finds delightful. He moans and rolls his hips against Credence’s until they both need to breathe.  
  
“Percy,” Credence whispers as he pants, his lips rosy. He looks up at Graves and the pleasure on his face, the way he looks at Graves with such desire and complete trust, gets Graves’ heart racing. “Please, Percy.”  
  
“Fuck,” Graves says, at a loss for words, and thinking he could hear Credence say those two words just like that every single day and never get tired of it. He kisses Credence briefly before he moves up and slides his hands along Credence’s sides and under his thighs. He bends his knees until Credence keeps them that way and uses his hand to keep one of his legs bent at a very enticing angle for the view it gives Graves.  
  
“No idea,” Graves sighs. “You have no fucking idea how stunning you are.”  
  
“Stop flattering me,” Credence says, but he’s grinning, so it can’t be all that bad. “I want you inside of me.”  
  
Graves chuckles and grabs the lube. “Soon,” he says and opens the cap, pouring a generous amount over his fingers. “When did you last do this?”  
  
Credence huffs. “There wasn’t a whole lot of time between working and only leaving the house when I was told I could,” he says. “A few years with someone else. I haven’t done it myself for around six months.”  
  
“Oh?” Graves asks and laughs, unable to help it. “Felt a sharp decline in libido around the same time I did then.”  
  
“It’s not funny,” Credence says but he’s laughing too. “It’s been coming back but I think we both needed freedom.”  
  
“I think you’re right,” Graves says with a smile. “Which is why I’m going to take my time with you.” He brushes his fingers along the cleft of Credence’s ass and rubs the warmed lube gently over his hole, watching Credence’s eyes flutter shut.  
  
Graves slides a finger into Credence after he’s satisfied with the amount of lube. Credence whimpers, biting his lip and looks up at Graves. He nods.  
  
“I’m fine,” he says softly because Graves is peering at him with concern. “It’s good, Percy. Just been a while.”  
  
“Tell me if it hurts,” Graves says and rubs Credence’s thigh. He slides his finger gently in and out to spread the lube and his cock throbs because Credence is hot and he’s relaxing very quickly. Graves rubs slowly against his prostate and Credence moans.  
  
He tips his head back and the long line of his neck is as perfect as the rest of him.  
  
Graves rubs his prostate until Credence’s free hand is fisting at the sheets and he’s shivering and whining, for more or relief. Graves pulls his finger out and gets more lube on them and presses two against Credence’s hole.  
  
“Another?”  
  
“Merlin, yes,” Credence whispers and licks his lips as he looks up at Graves. “It feels so good.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I know it does, love,” he says and smiles. “Might ask you to do this to me tonight.”  
  
Credence moans. “Fuck,” he says. “Yes, please. Oh!” He arches his back as Graves slides two fingers into him, slowly, and grips the sheets tighter in his hand. “Please, please, Percy, keep going.”  
  
He watches Credence, looking for any signs of pain, but there aren’t any. Credence bites his lip as Graves fingers him, gently, until he’s shifting his hips to meet Graves’ hand. He moves his fingers in and out harder then and Credence’s soft cry is beautiful.  
  
Graves leans over Credence as he rubs his prostate and Credence looks up at him, breathing quickly. He moves his hand to the back of Graves’ neck and pulls him closer and kisses him.  
  
This one is more desperate, deeper and passionate, and Graves feels Credence shaking, feels his moans, his blunt nails digging gently into his back.  
  
When they break apart, Graves kisses Credence’s neck and gently bites the groove between his shoulder and neck.  
  
Credence groans. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers. “Percy, more, please. I need you inside of me.”  
  
Graves looks down at him, at the fine sheen of sweat on his face, a few strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. It’s warm in the room already, late August, after all, and much warmer between them.  
  
“One more,” Graves says hoarsely, entirely taken with the way Credence looks. He doesn’t want to move away, wants to keep kissing Credence, but he needs to be inside of him too.  
  
He gently pulls his fingers out and grabs the lube again, getting more on his fingers. Credence’s hand is slipping underneath his knee until he locks his arm around his leg and Graves looks him over, sure he’s never been more turned on in his life.  
  
Credence nods quickly when Graves looks at him. Graves moves slowly, too worried about hurting Credence, but there’s only some stretch because Credence is lying boneless and relaxed. He squeezes his eyes shut when Graves’ fingers are deep in him.  
  
“Fuck,” he croaks. “Do you know how much I wanted to ask you to do this to me last night? The day I changed my address to here? The night we moved my things in? Merlin, Percy, _please_ get inside of me.”  
  
Graves curses as he moves his fingers in and out of Credence. The idea that Credence was thinking about this at those moments is more of a turn on, while being somewhat amusing because Graves was so damn worried about everything he wasn’t thinking about the same thing.  
  
Oh, when Credence left and he was lying in bed, yes, but not when Credence was.  
  
It’s flattering and arousing and Graves is more than glad to give Credence what he wants.  
  
“Alright, love. Anytime you want it from now on,” he says and pulls his fingers out. He shakes his hand until it’s clean and dry and gets more lube, coating his cock with it.  
  
Credence moves his arm around Graves when he moves over him and locks his legs around Graves’ waist. “Yes,” he whispers when Graves presses his cock to his hole. “Please, Percy.”  
  
Graves pushes the head of his cock into Credence and watches Credence bite his lip, hard. He whimpers and nods as he stares at Graves, his arms sliding across Graves’ shoulders. Graves sinks into him and Credence gasps, tossing his head back, and his hoarse shout of Graves’ name makes him groan as much as being inside of Credence does.  
  
“Credence,” he says and presses his hands against the bed near Credence’s shoulders. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re beautiful. You feel amazing.”  
  
Credence looks up at Graves, love and devotion in his eyes. “Percy,” he whispers and moves his hands to Graves’ cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss.  
  
It’s softer now, with a simmering passion, and Graves moves slowly when he rocks in and out of Credence. They both moan and Credence is trembling from what Graves suspects is more than pleasure. Graves kisses him and moves inside of him and feels the same way.  
  
Graves moves his hand along Credence’s side, holding onto his hip and thigh when they break apart. They gaze at each other and it feels deeply intimate, with soft moans and whispers of each other’s name. There are no more _no strings attached_ in their lives and Graves thinks about intimacy shared with his husband and feels far more at ease, comfortable and deeply in love, and knows he will always feel this way.  
  
There’s something sacred in this, and he thinks Credence must be thinking the same thing, his emotions written plainly in his eyes.  
  
It’s easy to move faster and more firmly and Credence’s moans become louder as he clings to Graves.  
  
“Credence,” Graves groans, “you’re so beautiful, love, all of you. You sound as beautiful as you look. No, sweetheart, let me hear you.”  
  
Credence is biting his lip again but he lets it go. “Percy,” he says and moans when Graves thrusts into him harder. “Merlin, you feel so good. Harder, please, I want it harder when I come.”  
  
Graves holds tightly onto Credence’s thigh and fucks him the way he wants it. He groans as Credence shouts, hoarse and half-broken, and it’s harder for both of them to say anything more than each other’s names then.  
  
Each time Credence moans or cries out _Percy,_ Graves gets closer and Credence’s ass tightening around him feels divine, but he wants to watch Credence come.  
  
They’re both sweating but Credence keeps his legs firmly around Graves’ waist when he pushes himself up more and takes Credence’s cock into his hand. He strokes it, brushing his thumb over the tip, sticky with precome.  
  
“Fuck yes,” Credence says, his voice higher and more pleading. “Percy, just like that! I’m going to come!”  
  
Graves curses as he thrusts into him and strokes his cock, faster now, until Credence’s body goes taut. He looks at Graves, his eyes wide until he squeezes them shut and tosses his head back.  
  
Credence comes with a cry, and Graves fucks him through it, the way he wants it. His come falls onto his chest and stomach, such a perfect sight, and the rest is hot over Graves’ fingers.  
  
“Come inside me, Percy, please,” Credence pleads through gasping breaths. His cheeks are pink with pleasure and more of his hair sticks to his forehead and Graves is sure the way he looks right now will be stuck in his mind forever.  
  
He lets go of Credence’s cock and grips his thigh again, groaning as he thrusts into Credence until his balls tighten. He grunts and presses deep into Credence as he comes and moans from the pleasure of it and the look on Credence’s face.  
  
He looks rapturous, as if he’s as taken with watching Graves come as Graves is with him, and moans as Graves throbs inside of him.  
  
Graves moves down, his arm shaking from holding himself up, and feels Credence’s arms tighten around his back, pulling him closer. He breathes, hot and heavy, against Credence’s neck, smelling the faint scent of clover from their soap.  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Credence whispers between breaths. “Oh, Percy, that was so good.” He whines when Graves gently rocks into him, still hard.  
  
Graves kisses Credence’s heated skin, his neck and his shoulder. “Fuck,” he says and groans softly as Credence’s blunt nails move across his lightly sweaty back. “Yes, it was. Merlin, Credence, you’re fucking amazing.”  
  
Credence laughs breathlessly and moves his fingers into Graves’ damp hair. “You are too, Percy,” he says and gently tugs on his hair until Graves looks down at him. He pulls him close for a kiss.  
  
It’s gentle and sweet while they catch their breath. Graves brushes Credence’s hair off his forehead and looks at him when he pulls back. He smiles when Credence does, that broad and happy one that Graves hopes he gets to see for the rest of his life.  
  
“Percy,” Credence says fondly. “Percy, I love you.”  
  
Graves’ heart hasn’t quite slowed down yet but it picks back up and he knows Credence loves him, that’s plain to see, but hearing it after all they’ve gone through is something else.  
  
“I love you too, Credence,” he says and kisses him, only briefly because Credence is grinning too much for it otherwise. Graves chuckles and brushes his thumb along Credence’s cheekbone. “Wonderful you.”  
  
“Stop,” Credence says with a laugh. “We’re already married.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “I’m sorry, do you think compliments stopped when we’re married? That’s only given me far more incentive to give you more and more,” he says and leans down to kiss and nibble at Credence’s neck.  
  
Credence laughs more. “I was hoping, maybe,” he says. “Maybe not,” he amends when Graves scoffs. “I’m not used to it.”  
  
“I know you’re not,” Graves says and smiles against Credence before sitting up more. “But you’ll get used to it now.” He chuckles when Credence wrinkles his nose and pats his thighs until he shakily moves his feet back onto the bed.  
  
Graves eases out of him and sits back to look at the beautiful mess Credence is and is sure he’s a mess as well. But Credence is smiling, sweetly so, and Graves rubs his thighs.  
  
“Merlin,” he sighs. “I am the luckiest man in the world.”  
  
Credence laughs. “I was thinking that I was,” he says with a grin. “I kind of hated you at the beginning, for being as handsome as you are.”  
  
Graves laughs with him. “The feeling was mutual,” he says and smirks. “That’s not funny.”  
  
“It’s a little funny,” Credence says, his eyes crinkled in amusement. “I think I want to take another shower.”  
  
“Good idea,” Graves says with a smile and gingerly climbs out of bed. His legs feel a bit like jelly and from the way Credence wobbles when he stands, he must be feeling the same way.  
  
But they do manage to make it into the bathroom and through a shower with only a moderate amount of kissing. When they’re done and dried, Credence leaves the bedroom to put on clothes and Graves gets dressed for the day.  
  
With a few waves of his hand, he manages to make some room in his closet and smiles when Credence walks in, holding an armful of clothes.  
  
“Guess we’ll be emptying that bedroom,” Graves says dryly and holds up his hand until the clothes hover in the air.  
  
Credence uses his wand to hang them up swiftly. “I’ll only put some plants in here,” he says. “I don’t know how to feel about them watching us in bed together.”  
  
“Shit,” Graves laughs. “As long as they aren’t going to stick a needle in my ass.”  
  
“I won’t put those types in here,” Credence says as he laughs and flicks his wand at the last shirt. It zooms onto a hanger and Credence smiles as he looks at Graves. “You make it seem so easy.”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “What’s that?”  
  
“Wandless magic,” Credence says. “It’s the hardest magic to learn. Even more than Human Transfiguration. Occlumency and Legilimency too.”  
  
“Ah,” Graves says. “I am a very talented individual.” He dodges Credence swatting at his arm. “You can learn to do it too, you know. Come on, coffee.”  
  
Credence huffs as they leave the closet and bedroom. “I’ve tried before and the most I’ve done is move a coffee cup a few millimeters. You can do almost any damn magic with it.”  
  
“Not the most important kind,” Graves says. “My wand is the only thing that allows for offensive and defensive magic, beyond a shield. Not pretty if you try to do it without one.”  
  
“Uncontrollable?” Credence asks and grimaces when Graves nods. “How long did it take to learn?”  
  
“I stopped thinking about it around thirty,” Graves says. “Started trying it when I was sixteen. Takes a while.”  
  
“I don’t have that kind of patience,” Credence laughs and smiles as Graves gets coffee and breakfast going.  
  
Graves smiles and looks at him. “Sure you do. You’re a potions master which requires a great amount of patience. And you’ve shown a lot of patience over the past couple months. Now too.”  
  
Credence sighs and leans against the breakfast bar. “I suppose,” he says and smiles. “These next few weeks will be harder. We’re not done yet.”  
  
“Not anywhere near it,” Graves agrees and moves closer to Credence to kiss him. “Soon, love. Soon and the payoff will be more than worth it.”  
  
Credence nods. “Yeah,” he says softly. “It will be. A long time coming for us both.”  
  
“Should we thank them again before ruining them?”  
  
“Hmm,” Credence hums and smiles. “No, I don’t think so. It was satisfying enough at the wedding.”  
  
Graves winks and turns back to breakfast. “It was, wasn’t it?”  
  
It’s a late breakfast, nearly lunch, and as soon as they’re done with it and a lot of coffee, they leave the apartment. Graves will be glad to never see the damn brownstone again after the next two or three weeks.  
  
They don’t bother knocking because Mary Lou doesn’t get the luxury of taking her time to answer the door and she’s smart enough to not cast any spells that wouldn’t allow them entry.  
  
Mary Lou is seated at the kitchen table with Chastity and Modesty while they have tea and doesn’t look surprised to see them. Livid and hateful, yes, but Graves is more than used to that and smiles at her. Her teacup trembles in her hand before she sets it down and Graves looks at Modesty and Chastity.  
  
They’re still afraid while their mother is in the room but their small smiles are genuine and when Graves asks them if they were able to sleep after a long, long day, they both nod.  
  
This is how it goes for the next four days. Graves and Credence come to the brownstone in the morning and evening to see the girls and remind Mary Lou that she is never alone with them. Credence is more restless with each day that passes and Graves doesn’t entirely blame him when they go with his mother and sisters to Grand Central on August 27th and he only seems more restless.  
  
They see Chastity off to start her sixth year and she is clearly happy to get away, to meet with her friends that Mary Lou hardly lets her exchange letters with over the summer.  
  
Parents and children stare at Graves and Credence but they ignore that and smile and wave at Chastity as the train rolls out of the station.  
  
Their wedding had been front-page news for two days before moving to other pages and Graves had perused the articles for anything interesting while Credence hid in a different room because he took one look at their pictures and couldn’t stand it.  
  
There was a delightful exposé about the gifts given to honor the Graves and Barebone family, touted as such an unusual tradition, not seen for so many years, but how unique and charming their gifts were. There’s speculation about why they didn’t exchange vows aloud or why they didn’t give speeches - _an arranged marriage and one might think that the couple didn’t know enough about each other, but their affection is clear despite no traditional speeches,_ one article writes - and Graves feels a sense of satisfaction whenever he reads new articles.  
  
It’s not all Silas and Mary Lou wanted it to be. There are mentions of two old family names joining together, but the newspapers largely focus on Graves and Credence. _The Mysterious Credence Graves née Barebone_ is one headline that makes Credence groan and leave the room.  
  
And it all fizzles out after a week and a half, like these things do, once the excitement of the wedding and the mystery has passed and something new is printed to capture the public’s attention.  
  
Silas and Mary Lou undoubtedly are receiving the attention and respect they wanted, but all good things must come to an end.  
  
They receive an invitation after Credence has begun work and Graves is back to it himself, for a dinner party at the manor to celebrate their families, and Graves sends the invitation back marked _unable to attend_ with a note that he and Credence are too busy enjoying married life.  
  
But it’s what Graves has been waiting for.  
  
Shortly after, an investigation is opened into Silas Graves due to reliable information they’ve received that gave them enough reason to search the manor. Silas doesn’t keep anything damaging there and he will think Graves is abusing his powers, but he’s merely been biding his time.  
  
Queenie did give them nearly twenty reasons to open investigations into multiple people and she is a reliable source. That his father was one of those is his doing because of his own incriminating thoughts and Queenie is on Graves’ department’s payroll still, from the moment she began researching blood magic laws for him.  
  
It’s kept completely quiet, the manor too secluded for anyone to see it done or hear about it, and Silas will think Graves put in a tip himself, but Graves is fine with that. He won’t dare confront him or speak about it publicly but it does what Graves needs it to do.  
  
It draws his father out. Silas must move incriminating items he’s kept elsewhere and he must speak with his seedy associates to do so and Aurors tail him as he does it.  
  
Arresting his father and his associates is done just as quietly.  
  
Graves can’t interrogate him but he watches and listens as Fontaine does. The anger on his father’s face is something Graves is familiar with. The anger from knowing Graves meant it when he said he would be the furthest thing from _at heel_ when all of it was done. The anger of it all being _so fucking unfair,_ but it never has been for Silas. He’s always believed he has a right to do the things he does and Graves used to carry the anger of it being unfair because no one would ever know the truth.  
  
And they still won’t. Fontaine fines Silas - heavily - for possession of illegal magical artifacts and that’s enough.  
  
The damage is done, but not in a way that’ll ever reach the public eye. It swarms through his associates, through the slimy people he trusted and through the Pureblood families with too many of their own secrets to speak publicly about it. They believe he spoke to MACUSA about them because of the number of searches, interrogations and arrests in their families, all thanks to Queenie.  
  
It ruins his reputation, it ruins his name entirely, and the respect he had even before he’d walked into Graves’ office and turned his world upside down fades to nothing. And with it, most of Mary Lou’s newfound respect and polished reputation goes down with Silas.  
  
At the right time as well, because shortly before their reputations turn to dust, Protective Services steps in after Graves has submitted all necessary paperwork and the burden of proof of abuse. Credence has plenty of it to give and it’s painful for him but he does it without complaint because he won’t watch it done to his sisters.  
  
Mary Lou loses Modesty and she will soon lose her home as well because Graves is positive Silas will stop funding her life. She has no more Dragots to fill her vault and while she may stay afloat for some time, it won’t last.  
  
Graves ensures this is kept private for his husband and Modesty and Chastity, and neither Mary Lou nor Silas will ever step forward. Their own deeds, their own abuse of their children and of the law will keep them shunned, never able to retaliate.  
  
Modesty has difficulties that day and it’s not unexpected but Graves and Credence are there for her on a traumatic day and night. She’s smart, nearly nine years old, and she understands why this has been done, she understands she’s free from the misery of her mother and the brownstone, and she smiles when they tell her she’ll be living with them.  
  
The next day they go to Ilvermorny with Protective Services and meet privately with Headmistress Aurora and Chastity. She’s more shaken up than Modesty and worries as much as Credence worries about most things in life but they answer her questions and reassure her concerns.  
  
She’s told she can be declared an adult in the eyes of the law, free to make her own choices, given support by MACUSA until she finishes Ilvermorny. She’s also told that Credence and Graves can become her guardians for the next year until she is seventeen if she would prefer and it’s not much of a surprise when she chooses that.  
  
She would live with them either way until she’s working and might want to live independently, but she has been denied a childhood, denied the chance to grow and flourish by her mother. She’ll need the support to become confident in herself, to not be afraid to do things on her own, and they’ll see to it that she gets there, however long it takes.  
  
When Credence asks if she wants to come home for a few days, Chastity looks at him, her posture straight, shoulders squared, something that’s been enforced by her mother, but Graves thinks it looks different today.  
  
That she’s doing it of her own volition and when she tells Credence she’ll be fine and wants to be with her friends, in her classes, and the fact that when she comes home for the holidays, it will be to a happy home is enough.  
  
She hugs Credence when he cries.  
  
It’s going to take time, Graves knows, and healing isn’t linear, just like magic isn’t. It ebbs and flows and some days will be harder than others. But they’ve had the benefit of Credence in their lives from the moment they were born, older than them and having already faced down the worst of it, to work through it on his own and understand how to help his sisters, how to protect them the way he learned to protect himself when he could.  
  
Graves told Eliza they’ve clung to their humanity because of it and it’s true. They’ve smiled and experienced genuine happiness over the months that led up to the wedding and Graves knows it’s in them to let go of pain and embrace that happiness without fear of punishment for it.  
  
Silas and Mary Lou are ruined, reputation and respect gone, and there’s not a damn thing they can do about it.  
  
They’ve made it clear to Silas and Mary Lou that they will face further consequences if they step into MACUSA or attempt to come near the Graves and Barebone family again.  
  
Mary Lou will face arrest if she tries to contact her daughters and her daughters will have the choice to see her if they wish, but as the year passes and the holidays as well, warmth and joy in them, they never mention their mother.  
  
The only thing they do that is an unpleasant reminder of it all, out of necessity and for peace of mind, is brew a potion and ensure no more blood magic has touched their lives.  
  
It hasn’t and never will again.  
  
Modesty spends her days in MACUSA’s child care center and Graves sees her and Credence for lunch whenever he can and gets the joy of taking her home now and then himself.  
  
She fits right in with everyone, all of their friends, though she does occasionally stay with Eliza and Kylan or Queenie and Tina when Credence and Graves are with the Fontaines because no children should be present for the things said on those nights.  
  
And Merlin help him, Queenie and Tina become a part of his personal life as much as they are in his professional life. They’re closer to Credence in age and he considers them his best friends, and Graves does have to admit that they help Credence come out of his shell. He’ll always be nervous around people he doesn’t know and large crowds, but he is open with their friends and growing as confident as any of them.  
  
It takes him a while more to get comfortable with Sera but he gets there eventually too.  
  
March comes and goes, a year since it all began, and during the Easter holidays, while Chastity is home, Graves and Credence get married.  
  
It’s a small wedding, the way they both prefer, with only friends and the family that matter most. And quite a few Aurors, but that’s always a necessity when Sera is out of MACUSA or her home.  
  
They hold it at the Fontaines’, who live on a wizarding street in Jericho, their home large and their backyard sprawling. It’s still cool out, but Eliza charms the backyard with a powerful and impressive spell that’s shaped much like a dome, not visible to the naked eye, and it keeps the air warm and pleasant.  
  
Numerous spring flowers and various other plants decorate the yard, along with warmer colors, no silvers or blacks in sight. It’s a spring wedding, after all, and though the tuxedos Anita makes for Graves and Credence are black, they wear silky pastel pink bow ties with matching pocket squares.  
  
Modesty’s dress is pink and Chastity’s is blue, their hair worn as loosely as they want.  
  
Everyone is in light colors and relaxed, cheerful because they are with people they love. They take numerous pictures but these are joyful ones and they’ll never be published in the _Herald._  
  
Kylan officiates, having married numerous of his younger siblings already, and doesn’t drone on and on but gets it over with quickly. Credence and Graves give short vows because while they’re with loved ones, they are both private people who spend much of their time together appreciating each other with words and small deeds and some larger ones too.  
  
The gifts they get from their guests are mostly things to laugh at, beyond the plants that make Credence gasp due to their rarity, and Graves sigh because they are running out of room in what was once a spacious apartment.  
  
Credence’s gift is small, wrapped in pink paper, and his cheeks are faintly red when he gives it to Graves.  
  
Graves smiles as he opens it and looks at a small grey box. He opens the lid and sees two rings inside, simple bands of silver polished to a sheen.  
  
“We talked about getting some once,” Credence says breathlessly, the way he speaks when he’s nervous. “We kept forgetting.”  
  
There are laughs around them and Graves chuckles.  
  
“We did, didn’t we?” he agrees and takes one of the rings out. “But I’m glad we did because these are stunning, Credence.” He holds out his hand and Credence grins, taking it. Graves slides the ring onto his finger and Credence does the same to his.  
  
“Perfect,” Graves says softly and looks at Credence at his side. He leans in and kisses him. “I’m looking forward to wearing it for the rest of my life. Thank you, love.”  
  
“Me too. Thank you, Percy,” Credence says and laughs when their guests clap.  
  
“Picture,” Eldora exclaims, as she’s been doing for about two hours now, but they’re not pictures that Graves or Credence minds. “Wrong finger, Percy.”  
  
Credence is still laughing and Graves smiles when he looks at him after the picture has been taken, showing off their rings.  
  
Merlin, he’s beautiful and Graves thinks that every day, numerous times a day, and still thinks he’s the luckiest bastard in the world that Credence loves him.  
  
“One more gift,” Fontaine declares. “Less cow eyes.”  
  
“Always a romantic,” Eldora says.  
  
“There’s cake after this,” Fontaine says, perfectly serious, and Graves points at him in agreement.  
  
“Guess that leaves mine,” Graves says and winks at Credence. He pulls it out of his pocket, shrunken to fit, and enlarges it to size. It’s a box wrapped in yellow paper and Graves watches Credence open it.  
  
Credence pulls off the lid and raises his eyebrows. He pulls out an alarm clock, the glass face gone and one of the hands is missing, and holds it up for everyone to see.  
  
“Ooo, we know what that is, honey,” Queenie says with a grin as she leans on her sister, glasses of champagne in their hands.  
  
“You mean it’s something more than Percy’s fine taste?” Credence asks mildly.  
  
Eliza laughs. “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s gone traditionally ordinary,” she says and smirks at Graves when he waves his hand dismissively.  
  
“It would defeat the purpose if I didn’t and I spent a lot of time picking it out, thank you.”  
  
“You gonna tell us?” Tina asks.  
  
“I don’t get it,” Modesty whispers to Chastity, just loud enough for Graves to hear, and he laughs.  
  
“This, my dear Modesty, is a portkey,” Graves says and winks when she grins sheepishly. “When Credence asked for Cabo after the wedding last April, I expected we might go as friends even though I was falling madly in love with him. But we decided that we weren’t going to have a getaway after that particular wedding, but this one.”  
  
“A better wedding,” Credence says with a grin. “That we don’t need a week to recover from.”  
  
“Emotionally and physically,” Kylan agrees. “Think we all felt that bit of it.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Sera says thoughtfully as she holds a glass of firewhiskey, “I think I might have been the only one to enjoy it.”  
  
“Undercover work in disguise is always the most fun, ma’am,” Tina says. “I think Queenie might have enjoyed it too.”  
  
“Oh, it was awful, Teenie. The most horrid things you can imagine hearing,” Queenie says cheerfully and grins. “But puttin’ bad people away made up for it.”  
  
“Always makes up for shit days,” Fontaine agrees.  
  
“Proper language in front of the children, please,” Eldora says.  
  
“Right,” Fontaine says and holds up his glass. _“Shitty_ days.”  
  
Chastity and Modesty giggle, and when Modesty holds out her hands, Fontaine frowns.  
  
“That’s two Dragots, Fontaine. The girl is amassing a fortune,” Graves says with a smirk. “She’ll be richer than all of us by her first year.”  
  
“Percy said we go down to Sprinks after that,” Modesty says and beams. “So I don’t start getting a big head.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin,” Credence says as he laughs.  
  
“They can pay us for room and board then while you’re in Cabo,” Eliza says, and when Modesty sticks her tongue out at her, she returns the gesture.  
  
Graves smiles and wraps his arm around Credence’s shoulders, looking at him. “What do you think? Ready for Cabo?”  
  
Credence grins. “I am more than ready for Cabo,” he says. “When do we go?”  
  
“Not until the first of June,” Graves says. “We want perfect weather.”  
  
“Yes, we do,” Credence sighs. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
“Picture!”  
  
Credence and Graves sigh and hold up the alarm clock together for another picture.  
  
“I want to go to Cabo,” Tina sighs. “Imagine a beach that’s actually warm.”  
  
“Just ask Mister Scamander to take you, Teenie, I’m sure he would,” Queenie says and grins when Tina gasps and smacks her arm. “Ow! Imagine all the magical creatures he could show you.”  
  
“Wait, wait, wait,” Graves says and holds out his hands. “Who the fuck is Mister Scamander? Not the same Scamander I know?”  
  
Tina groans and grabs a bottle of champagne, pouring herself another glass. “No,” she says glumly. “His younger brother.”  
  
“I didn’t know he had a younger brother,” Fontaine says. “You have to tell us about him now.”  
  
“Love is in the air, Goldstein,” Graves agrees.  
  
“Merlin,” Tina mutters and squints at everyone. “I hate all of you. You’re just going to make fun of him,” she says to Graves.  
  
“I will not,” Graves retorts. “I’m going to be happy for you.”  
  
“He’s lying out his ass,” Credence says and smiles. “But tell us anyway.”  
  
They learn about Mister Scamander - who Tina met when she was in the Ministry of Magic in London on a case - and Graves will absolutely be making fun of both of them, but not today.  
  
Today he listens to a budding relationship and thinks about when his and Credence’s own was budding. In the most horrific of circumstances, maybe, but once Graves pulled his head out of his ass and saw Credence as someone that was on the same side he was, it was only inevitable after that.  
  
Credence is the most wonderful man Graves has ever met, more wonderful every day, his genuine and kind nature, dry humor, and the way he wears his emotions on his sleeve. He keeps teaching Graves humility and Graves knows he’s a better man because of it.  
  
Because of Credence.  
  
He looks at Credence, whose hand is on his thigh, laughing at something Sera has said about fraternizing with the English. Credence looks at Graves then and his smile softens.  
  
“I love you,” he says quietly.  
  
“I love you too,” Graves says and kisses him. “To the second year of many.”  
  
Credence grins. “To the second year of many,” he says and pulls Graves closer for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've come to the end! I felt like after the wedding we really did not need to hear anymore from Silas and Mary Lou lol fuck them both. I hope you enjoyed this very long final chapter and I'd love to hear from you. Kudos and comments mean so much!!
> 
> I sketched [The Wedding 'Arch'](https://i.imgur.com/BYV9pp5.png)
> 
> I wanted to make it a nice line art but I only got an hour before my body said no more. So like the platform/step is deep enough to fit three people and their heads are about a foot under the animals so that's how big this thing is :) can you imagine :) keeping it :) in your backyard :)
> 
> Thank you as always to Erin and my Momma for all your support and encouragement through writing this!!! Love you both!!!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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